“We shall not stay long.”
Elizabeth and Darcy followed the maid to the front door. The servant opened it, startling a man on the other side who had been about to knock. He was a large, burly fellow, and had with him a large, burly dog. Elizabeth had never seen such an enormous mastiff, and was thankful the man held it on a leash.
The man and maid greeted each other. “And who is this?” the maid asked, nodding toward the animal.
“Wolfgang. Mrs. Norris told me to bring him round today.”
“Well, bring him round to the back door and we’ll get him familiar with the place.”
Elizabeth held her tongue until she and Darcy were beyond the gate. “I dislike that woman more with every meeting.”
“Which one?”
“Mrs. — ” She had been about to say “Norris,” but stopped herself. “All of them, actually. Maria reminds me too much of my youngest sister, and the two older matrons are at least as dictatorial as Lady Catherine.”
“Mrs. Norris and the dowager do seem to share some common traits with my aunt.”
“The three of them are insufferable — so certain that they know what is best for everybody else.” Though their power was confined to the domestic sphere, they wielded it with divine self-righteousness. “They could model for a portrait of the Fates.”
“Mrs. Norris spinning the thread, Mrs. Rushworth measuring it, and Lady Catherine cutting it off?”
“A sanctimonious triumvirate that rules through intimidation.” She took his arm to steady herself as she negotiated another muddy patch of road.
“Surely they do not intimidate you? Why, you have been standing up to my aunt since before we were engaged, and after a few more years as mistress of Pemberley I fully expect you will be as capable as they of commanding everybody around you.”
She halted abruptly. “Are you quite serious?” Images of herself ten, fifteen years into the future flashed in her mind. She saw herself arranging a betrothal for Lily-Anne without her knowledge, manipulating her neighbors, lecturing her guests. She did not like what she saw. Did Darcy truly think her capable of such behavior? “No one knows what is best for everybody else, including me,” she said. “And I do not want to become the sort of person who thinks she does.”
“I did but jest,” he said. “I could never have married you if I thought you inclined to my aunt’s propensities. One Lady Catherine in our family is more than enough.”
They reached the inn and elected to partake of an early dinner. They were startled when their server appeared.
“Meg? Whatever are you doing?”
“One of the girls quit after Lady Catherine yelled at her again, and I have taken her job. I told you I would find a means of supporting myself.”
“But — do you want to work as a servant?”
“I worked at an inn before my marriage; I can work in one again.”
Within ten minutes, another pair of patrons had taken a table in the dining room: Mr. Rushworth and his mother. Meg greeted them with a smile. Mr. Rushworth returned it with a polite nod. The dowager scowled.
“Welcome,” Meg said. “Have you dined at the Ox and Bull before?”
“On a few occasions,” Mr. Rushworth replied. “Though when last we were here, we did not linger to eat.”
“Had places to be, did you?”
“Yes, we were on our way to London.”
“Well, I am glad you have returned. What can I bring you?”
Elizabeth glanced at Darcy. Had Mr. Rushworth gone to London to purchase a pistol after his discussion with Henry Crawford? He could not have returned quickly enough to have killed Mr. Crawford that night, but Mr. Crawford had been missing for days before his discovery — perhaps the murder had not taken place on the evening of his disappearance, but some time later.
On the other hand, perhaps Mr. Rushworth had been far to the south when the murder occurred.
Darcy answered her unspoken question in muted tones shielded from the Rushworths’ hearing by Meg’s cheerful chatter. “We can probably verify how long he was in London. If it was any length of time, he likely would have been seen at one of his clubs. Or perhaps he filed court papers related to the crim con trial. I will ask Mr. Harper to make some enquiries.”
Elizabeth knew their solicitor could be relied upon to conduct his investigation discreetly.
They finished their meal and headed for their chamber. As they reached the base of the stairs, the front door opened. An old man with a cane shuffled in, followed by his sullen son.
“Why, Mr. Darcy — it is Mr. Darcy, is it not? — how good to see you again.”
Lord Sennex had arrived.
Twenty-Two
“Younger sons cannot marry where they like… there are not many in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money.”
— Colonel Fitzwilliam, Pride and Prejudice
Lady Catherine gripped the top of the chair back, too impatient to sit down. “Whatever is taking his lordship so long?”
“Doubtless he requires more time than you or I to cope with the stairs,” Darcy replied. “I am sure he will be down as soon as he is able.”
The only room available for Lord Sennex’s use had been the upper-level chamber vacated by Mr. Lautus some days ago. That gentleman apparently had grown so weary of the Crawford — de Bourgh entourage occupying all the attention of the Bull’s employees that he had departed without so much as informing his host of his intention of never returning. Darcy was beginning to wish he could flee the inn himself. He had trouble tolerating his aunt for more than a se’nnight when he had all of Pemberley or Rosings in which to lose himself; the inn’s close quarters were becoming closer with each passing day.
As their party now comprised the whole of the inn’s guest list, Lady Catherine had commandeered the small parlor for their use in holding the imminent meeting. Colonel Fitzwilliam paced restlessly while Mr. Archer sat in front of the empty fireplace.
“This is not how I intended to conduct these negotiations,” his aunt said. “I had planned to send Mr. Archer to Hawthorn Manor. I certainly did not want Mr. Sennex and his lordship to come here, where they might encounter that Garrick woman flitting about and learn that Anne might never have been truly married.” She drummed her fingers on the chair. “I can manage Lord Sennex. It is Neville Sennex and their solicitor who concern me. Fortunately the solicitor is not expected for a day or two.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam halted his agitated movements. “I must again express my conviction that this betrothal is not in Anne’s best interest. I spoke with her not twenty minutes ago and she dreads the very thought of it. Indeed, I harbor reservations of my own about Mr. Sennex’s suitability. Anne’s cooperation is coerced by her contrition over the Crawford debacle and her reluctance to defy you.”
“So long as she cooperates, I do not care what her motivation is.”
“But in my opinion—”
“I have not solicited your opinion.”
“Then why have you asked me to this meeting?”
“For the same reason I invited Mr. Darcy to attend. I want your help in persuading Mr. Sennex to accept terms most advantageous to Anne.”
“Anne’s inheritance of Rosings is secure whether she marries or not,” Darcy said. “Why pressure her to wed at all?”
“To preserve her reputation. To ennoble our family line. To create another generation… if she has not begun that already.” She emitted a sound of disgust. “I pray she does not carry Mr. Crawford’s child. As it is, Mr. Sennex will almost certainly insist the wedding be postponed until that fact is determined.”
A moment later, Lord Sennex and his son entered. Lady Catherine greeted them warmly — as warm as conversation with her ladyship ever became — and invited them to sit.
Neville shook his head. “I am not staying. I only escorted my father down at his insistence.”
Lady Catherine frowned. “Surely you want a voice in these proceedings?”
“The only thing I have to say about the matter is that I refuse to participate. Your daughter’s elopement humiliated me beyond restitution. Henry Crawford might have managed to get himself killed before I had an opportunity to seek satisfaction, but I will not take his widow on any terms. No fortune in the world is worth lowering myself to accept used goods.”
Lady Catherine gasped.
“Neville,” the viscount said in a even tone, “you must reconsider—”
“No. As I told you the entire length of our journey, I am decided. If you remain determined to bring Miss de Bourgh — pardon me, Mrs. Crawford—into this family, you will have to marry her yourself.”
With that, he abruptly departed. All stared in silence at the door Mr. Sennex had closed behind him with force that echoed in the walls.
“I… er, I believe I need to sit down.” The viscount leaned heavily on his cane. Darcy went to him and assisted him into a chair.
Lady Catherine eyed him appraisingly.
“I–I am afraid I must apologize for my son. I had hoped that once we arrived… Perhaps if he could meet with Mrs. Crawford…”
“Given his present disposition, I do not think that advisable,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Lord Sennex released a sigh so heavy that it seemed to deflate his entire carriage. “I had so hoped to see him settled. Hawthorn Manor has been a lonely place since my wife passed away. I looked forward to a young bride cheering its halls again.”
Lady Catherine took the chair next to him. “How long have you been a widower?”
“Oh, it has been… now let me see…” His wrinkles deepened as he concentrated. He issued another sigh. “A score of years, at least.”
“That is a long time to be alone,” she said in the most sympathetic voice Darcy had ever heard issue from her lips.
“Have you ever considered remarrying?”
“Anne will never agree to it.”
“Of course she will,” Lady Catherine told Colonel Fitzwilliam after Lord Sennex left the parlor. “This is an even better arrangement than her marrying the son. She will become a viscountess immediately. With that title, no one will dare criticize her elopement. And Lord Sennex was in favor of the special license, so we need not worry about the reading of the banns — the wedding can take place immediately. He is too addled to even think about waiting long enough to ensure Anne is not in a family way. If she is, it will be an easy matter to dupe him into believing the child is his. Mr. Archer, go draft the marriage agreement directly. I want his lordship to sign it before his solicitor arrives.”
As Mr. Archer departed to do her bidding, Darcy exchanged glances with his cousin.
“Have you considered,” Darcy said to his aunt, “that the viscountcy will pass to Neville Sennex and his children, not to any children of Anne’s?”
“If Neville Sennex produces children.”
“You do not think he will eventually wed?”
“It is a chance I am willing to take to preserve Anne’s respectability.”
“She need not marry a man more than twice her age to do so,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“Who else is there? She is almost thirty years old. Suitors were hardly lining up on the steps of Rosings before her elopement. You heard what Neville Sennex said. His own humiliation aside, he is correct in that Anne’s association with Mr. Crawford has tainted her. What man of consequence will have her now? What gentleman at all?”
“I will.”
Lady Catherine stared at the colonel. “What are you saying, Fitzwilliam?”
“I am offering my hand — if Anne herself is willing to accept it.”
“Despite the fact that Henry Crawford compromised her? And that she could be carrying his child?”
“Yes.”
Lady Catherine’s brows rose. “That is very noble of you. But entirely unnecessary. We have just achieved an understanding with Viscount Sennex, and he offers a superior situation. Marrying Anne to her own cousin, a younger son with no land or title of his own, would make the marriage look like a patched-up business. I will not have Society thinking that the daughter of Sir Lewis de Bourgh could do no better than an army officer bought by her fortune and pressured by duty to restore the family name.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s jaw tightened. “Why do we not allow Anne to determine that? She is over one-and-twenty. She can decide for herself which offer she prefers to accept, if she wants to accept one at all.”
“I forbid you to mention this to Anne.”
“You forbid me?”
Lady Catherine released a heavy breath. “I can see how the alliance you propose will materially benefit you, and make worthwhile the sacrifice of overlooking her compromised state. But if she defies me in this matter, she will not receive a shilling of her trust funds — the other trustees will side with me and refuse to release her annual income. If, however, you are patient, you can still gain. Wait until she is widowed again to marry her. The viscount is old and frail; his passing will not take long. Then she will have a restored reputation and the handsome jointure I just negotiated with him, as well as Rosings, to bring to your marriage.”
“My offer was not about money.”
Lady Catherine laughed coldly. “I thought you were more worldly, Fitzwilliam. Marriages are always about money, whether that fact is acknowledged or not.”
Their aunt left to oversee Mr. Archer’s progress in drafting the agreement with Sennex. Colonel Fitzwilliam was silent; Darcy could tell he struggled to subdue his resentment toward Lady Catherine.
“For my part,” Darcy said, “I believe Anne would be fortunate in a marriage to you.”
“It is gratifying to know that you, at least, think so.”
“I was, however, as surprised as Lady Catherine by your offer.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam became very busy with a button on the cuff of his coat. “It is not about money.”
Twenty-Three
“Now, seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring any thing you had a fancy for?”
— Elizabeth to Colonel Fitzwilliam, Pride and Prejudice
“Colonel Fitzwilliam made an offer for Anne’s hand?” Elizabeth found the news delightful. A slow smile spread across her countenance, unrepressed by the jostling of the carriage as she and Darcy made their way to Thornton Lacey. Eager to escape the inn for a while, they had decided to visit the village where Edmund Bertram resided in hopes of learning more from the clergyman about Mr. Crawford’s history with the Bertram and Rushworth families.
“Yes. And Lady Catherine rejected it.”
The smile immediately transformed into a frown. “Whatever is she thinking?”
“That she would rather see Anne attached to a doddering but wealthy and titled old man, than to a soldier with far less to recommend him.”
“Oh, come, now — Colonel Fitzwilliam has plenty to recommend him. He is the son of an earl.”
“A younger son, and Anne is the niece of that same earl. He would bring no new connections to the marriage.”
“Even so, he is hardly impoverished. He did not inherit the earldom from his father, but he inherited something—he must have a substantial portion to call his own.”
“Not substantial enough by Lady Catherine’s standards. To her mind, the only thing he offers is respectability, which the viscount, as a peer, trumps.”
Confound Lady Catherine. Elizabeth had witnessed quite enough of her rank pretensions. “What about affection? Does that count for nothing?”
“We are speaking of my aunt.”
“Oh, yes: ‘Affection has no place in such an important decision as marriage.’ How could I forget?”
“What has affection to do with this particular instance? Do you believe Anne and Colonel Fitzwilliam would in time grow to feel about each other as we do?”
“I suspect they already might.”
“Indeed?” He appeared s
urprised, and somewhat doubtful.
“Did you not observe the way she looked at him yesterday morning? Or how long he held her hand?”
“No, I did not.”
Was that not just like a man? Elizabeth rolled her eyes and glanced out the window as the carriage rounded a curve. “Has it also escaped your notice how attentive he has been toward her since the accident? One must almost drag him away from her bedside.”
“He is her cousin, and she is injured.”
She turned her gaze back upon him. “You are her cousin.”
“I would much rather be at your bedside.”
“My point precisely! When you left him just now, where did he go?”
“To Anne’s chamber.”
“Aha!”
“But only to assist her down the stairs. He said she is feeling improved enough today that she wanted to take her dinner in the dining room.”
She laughed.
“What is so amusing?”
“That assistance will require a bit of hand-holding and other contact, I warrant.”
“Of what are you accusing Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
“Not a thing. I have no doubt of his behaving as a perfect gentleman, and she a perfect lady, and nothing untoward occurring between them.” She deliberately looked out the window once more. “At least, not on the staircase.”
“Elizabeth!”
She laughed again. “I do not even accuse either of them of being ardently in love — not yet. Whatever one or both of them might be feeling, I think is undeclared even within their own hearts, let alone to each other. And perhaps I am seeing what does not exist. But I have my suspicions, and I would much rather entertain happy ones involving your cousins than the more grave suspicions we have lately contemplated regarding Mr. Crawford’s murder.”
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