Chaos Comes To Kent

by Jann Rowland

  “I would be pleased if you would call me Elizabeth,” said her companion. “Or even Lizzy. Tis what all my friends and family call me.”

  “Very well,” said Lady Catherine, delighted that they had taken that step. “At present, it would not be proper, but sometime in the future, I hope you will be able to address me as ‘Aunt Catherine.’”

  Once again the girl colored and she turned shyly away. “Perhaps. We shall simply have to see.”

  Delighted as she was by the way the conversation had gone, Lady Catherine only agreed with her and led her back toward the house. She had never been more hopeful in her life that things would proceed exactly as she wished.

  Of course, not all was proceeding as she had designed, but she decided with a philosophical bent that life was not perfect. Mrs. Bennet was a particularly exasperating factor those days. Lady Catherine attempted to tell the woman repeatedly that she was wrong in her expectations, but Mrs. Bennet would not listen. Had she any doubt as to the strength of the two couples’ attachments, she might have been cross with Mrs. Bennet. But as they appeared to be playing their parts perfectly, she could simply look on Mrs. Bennet with amused tolerance, waiting patiently for the spectacle which would ensue when the woman learned the truth of the matter.

  Or perhaps the courtships were not proceeding quite perfectly, as she found out. A few days after becoming closer with Elizabeth, Lady Catherine happened to be in the sitting-room alone when Darcy stepped inside. He surveyed it once, looking for Elizabeth, Lady Catherine thought, before bowing and turning to leave. Then he seemed to think twice of it, however, and he entered and sat nearby. Intent as she was upon his every expression, Lady Catherine thought he was a little pensive.

  “My mother, Lady Catherine—” said he suddenly before breaking off, casting about for the words he wished to say.

  “Yes, Darcy? You wished to ask me something about my sister?”

  Darcy heaved a frustrated sigh and sat back on the sofa. “She died when I was young, so I was denied the opportunity to know her as an adult. I think—I believe I know what she wished for Georgiana and me, but I am not certain.”

  “Surely you are not on the verge of falling in with Anne’s desires,” said Lady Catherine in a teasing tone.

  Though startled, Darcy soon made a face and shook his head vigorously. “No, I am not. I know mother did not wish for a marriage with Anne unless it was my own choice.”

  “No, she did not.” Lady Catherine paused and laughed. “You know, I was always more forceful on the subject than she was. For a time, I quite had my heart set upon it. But your mother . . .”

  For the second time that week Lady Catherine felt the emotions welling up within her.

  “Your mother,” continued she, and she could hear the roughness of emotion in her own voice, “though she was sweet and complying, possessed a stubborn streak without equal. She persuaded me that it was foolishness to attempt to dictate your lives.

  “The answer to your question, Darcy, as that your mother wished for the best for you. She wished for you and Georgiana both to be happy—nothing more, and nothing less.”

  “Do you think . . .” Darcy paused, once again considering his words. He was such a careful, sober man; Lady Catherine was excessively fond of him. “Do you think mother would approve of Miss Elizabeth?”

  “There, was it truly that difficult?” asked Lady Catherine.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why, confessing your interest in her.”

  Darcy scowled, but Lady Catherine just waved him off. “It was obvious, Darcy, from the moment I saw you together.

  “Yes, your mother would love Miss Elizabeth as if she were her own daughter. You need have no concerns on that score.”

  A nod, though distracted, was Darcy’s answer, and for a moment he sat quietly. Lady Catherine once again allowed herself the luxury of losing herself in remembrances of her sister and the love they had shared.

  “The earl will not approve,” said Darcy, drawing Lady Catherine’s attention back to him. “The last time I saw him, he spoke of strengthening some alliance or another in the House of Lords.”

  Lady Catherine only rolled her eyes. She was intimately acquainted with her brother’s character.

  “Hugh is full of himself—that is true. He might wish for an alliance by marriage, but he will never insist on it. In the end, he will accept what he cannot change, and I dare say that by the end he will love Elizabeth as much as the rest of us do.”

  Clearly bemused, Darcy turned to Lady Catherine and raised an eyebrow. “Love her like the rest of us do?”

  “Indeed,” said Lady Catherine. “You cannot think that I do not love the girl—she is as dear to me as my own daughter, and of late, far less aggravating.”

  A laugh escaped Darcy’s lips, though he tried to hide it in favor of a censorious scowl.

  “She is a breath of fresh air,” continued Lady Catherine. “Yes, I am prodigiously fond of her. Jane, too, is everything that is good and delightful, though much quieter, as you know. I am fond of her as well, though I will own that Elizabeth has a special place in my heart. And even the younger girls, with a little guidance, will turn out to be good girls, I am certain.” Lady Catherine paused, then grinned at Darcy. “I will own that Miss Lydia needs more than a little guidance.”

  “Guidance you plan to offer?”

  “I already have been,” said Lady Catherine with a shrug. “They will need some maturity before they can join society, and I will not allow them to embarrass you and Fitzwilliam. You will both be required to endure some scrutiny for your choice of wives; Kitty and Lydia will excite gossip and scandal the way they are now.”

  “True,” said Darcy, apparently deep in thought. “But before you begin planning the weddings, I suggest you practice prudence. Nothing has been decided, and nothing may yet come of it.”

  “I am always prudent, dear boy,” said Lady Catherine, rising to her feet. She brushed her hand across his cheek, a feather-like touch, before turning to leave the room. “I simply know what I have seen, and I am convinced that both you and Fitzwilliam will soon decide you are unable to live without your chosen Bennet sister.”

  With those impudent words, Lady Catherine departed from the room, leaving Darcy to himself. He supposed he should be annoyed with her. She had masterminded all this, he was certain. From the invitation to the Bennet sisters to stay at Rosings to skillfully maneuvering them into positions where they could be in each other’s company, she had manipulated events to her liking. It was because the events were also to his liking that Darcy had not allowed his annoyance to be known. It had all worked to his benefit, after all.

  Sighing, Darcy stood and looked about the room. He had been searching for Miss Elizabeth when he had come across his aunt. Perhaps he should now find her.

  But before he could do anything more than stand, the door opened and the housekeeper entered and announced the arrival of Mr. Collins.

  “Mr. Darcy,” said he, with a low bow. “How fortunate it is that I have come across you.”

  “Mr. Collins,” said Darcy. He was still cross with Collins for his clandestine attack on Miss Elizabeth and was not interested in bandying words with the man. He bowed to excuse himself.

  “I will send the housekeeper to find Lady Catherine. If you will wait here a moment, I am certain she will come directly.”

  “I did come to speak with my patroness, but if you would, I have a few words to say to you.

  “You see, Mr. Darcy,” said he before Darcy could do more than direct a pointed glare at him, which he ignored, “I am aware of what has been happening under your aunt’s roof, and I am certain that she is as distressed by the matter as I am myself. She has been all that is gracious and amiable to my family, and yet she has been repaid with treachery and dishonesty.

  “I would not, of course, accuse you of any such devilry, Mr. Darcy. Indeed, I am aware of the lengths to which my cousin will
go in order to achieve her aims and capture a wealthy man. I was almost inclined to pursue her as well, you understand. But I was able to withstand her siren call, and I am certain that you shall be able to do so as well, if you are presented with the right encouragement.”

  About the only thing Darcy was encouraged to do at this very moment was to pummel Mr. Collins until he begged for mercy.

  “Mr. Collins,” said Darcy, fighting for the control he knew Miss Elizabeth would wish him to exercise, “I will warn you not to speak to me or Miss Elizabeth on this matter again. I will not repeat myself.”

  Shocked, Mr. Collins made to interrupt, but Darcy held up a hand. The man subsided, however sullenly.

  “It is none of your concern, Mr. Collins. I am my own man, and I will pursue the woman I see fit to pursue. As for Miss Elizabeth, her father is her guardian, and as such, you can have nothing to say. You have not only insulted her by attributing to her the worst of motives, but you have also insulted me, by suggesting I do not know my own mind. I will not hear another word of it from you.”

  Darcy turned on his heel and stalked from the room. To stay would be to give in to his desire to call the stupid man out.

  The meddling was becoming a serious distraction, and though Elizabeth was determined to meet it all with good humor and patience, it had begun to wear on her. Her mother had been taking every opportunity to berate her daughters, instructing them on the best way to catch her chosen husband for each, and though Mr. Collins had nothing to say to Jane concerning her behavior, he was not much better when it came to Elizabeth. At least they did not live at Rosings. Miss de Bourgh, after a period of relative quiet, was once again her obnoxious self, inserting herself on Elizabeth’s notice whenever she came near Mr. Darcy. Before long, Elizabeth was almost ready to scream out her frustration.

  “Then let us depart the estate for a time,” said Jane in her most reasonable tone. “I believe we could all use a distraction from the chaos which surrounds Rosings.”

  “Oh? And what would you suggest?” asked Elizabeth of her peacemaking sister.

  “A picnic?” asked Jane. “If we arrange it so that it is only you, Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and me, we could obtain a much-needed rest from our troubles. We could go to a secluded spot and not have to worry about the interference of our relations.”

  Elizabeth chewed her lip, thinking about her sister’s suggestion. “If we are not able to leave without Miss de Bourgh or Mr. Collins seeing us, we will be forced to endure their interference again.”

  “Yes, that is exactly it. If we ask Lady Catherine for assistance, I am certain she will be pleased to assist.”

  “I dare say she would!” said Elizabeth, remembering her conversation with the lady.

  “Then with her ladyship’s assistance, I am certain we can make our escape.”

  In the end, it was absurd how easy it was to slip away. Miss de Bourgh was detained by her companion by a trivial matter—Elizabeth did not even know what it was—and Mr. Collins was called in to a meeting with Lady Catherine. As the man would never gainsay his patroness, his absence was guaranteed. If Mrs. Bennet even knew of the outing, Elizabeth was certain she would approve, though not likely of the pairings. Lady Catherine was happy to assist as they had expected, and as Elizabeth and Jane were leaving the room, she could not allow them to leave without one final comment.

  “I expect you both to return engaged, my dears.”

  Jane blushed and could not respond, but Elizabeth gathered her courage and said: “Should we be the ones doing the proposing, then?”

  With a laugh, Lady Catherine waved them from the room. “Go. Enjoy yourselves. I will ensure no one can intrude upon your solitude.”

  And so they did. Mr. Darcy had chosen the location, a wooded area near a small stream, with wildflowers sprouting, their waving petals lending riot of colors to the scene. Each lady, with her chosen partner beside her, walked gaily along the path, and Elizabeth, in particular, swung her arms, joyful to be out of the oppressive atmosphere which seemed to have settled over Rosings of late, or at least whenever any of her tormentors were near.

  “I see the sprite has again made an appearance,” observed Mr. Darcy.

  Elizabeth turned to him, noting the soft smile on his face, and she turned and skipped down the path. “One thing to remember about sprites, Mr. Darcy,” said she over her shoulder. “You must catch them!”

  Elizabeth heard Mr. Darcy’s growl, followed by his footsteps. Laughing with abandon, Elizabeth raced ahead, daring the man to truly chase after her. She looked back to see him laughing along with her, and he did not seem to be chasing her with any true intention of catching her. But there was a gleam in his eye which suggested retribution when they were next together.

  They all arrived at Mr. Darcy’s chosen location only a few moments later, and they stood, each with their chosen companion, looking at the scene with interest.

  “Is this not where Anne fell into the stream when we were children, Darcy?” asked Fitzwilliam.

  “No, that was a little downriver from here,” replied Mr. Darcy. Then he turned to Elizabeth and regarded her with mock severity. “Would your mother not consider your little exhibition to be less than ladylike?”

  “My mother considers much of what I do to be unladylike,” said Elizabeth with airy unconcern.

  “I sometimes think that Mama is a little hard on my sister,” said Jane, though timidly.

  “She simply does not understand me,” replied Elizabeth. She was a little uncomfortable with the conversation and wished to end it. “I am the daughter who is least like her and the one most likely to flout her instructions. She does not know what to make of me. Now, shall we eat our luncheon? I am starving.”

  This suggestion was agreed to by all, and for a few moments they busied themselves with preparing for their meal. The baskets which had been carried by the gentlemen were opened, and they produced two blankets which were spread upon the ground. Elizabeth and Jane emptied the baskets of their bounty and placed the food out in preparation for their enjoyment. Elizabeth looked at what they had brought, filled with appreciation for the thought which had been taken in selecting their meal. There were light sandwiches of all kinds, crispy fruits, cold meat, cheeses, and a carafe of wine for their consumption.

  “I believe Lady Catherine took a hand in these preparations,” said Elizabeth, directing an amused grin at Mr. Darcy. “If we had allowed you gentlemen to choose the menu, I believe Jane and I would have been forced to wait while you caught fish, skinned them, and cooked them over a campfire.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam turned a lazy eye on his cousin. “Perhaps we should do that for our next outing.”

  Elizabeth laughed and wagged her finger at him. “Indeed, you shall not. If you wish to catch fish, then go to it, but I believe Jane and I will watch from a distance. No campfires, if you please.”

  “You take all the fun out of life, Miss Elizabeth,” said he, showing her a pout.

  “I merely do not wish to be near when fish are divested of their scales and other sundry slippery parts. It seems like a nasty business.”

  It was with animated discussion such as this that they ate their lunch, though there was far too much food for them to eat it all. Elizabeth had never felt so happy—perhaps it was the absence of the trouble with their relations or the contentment of the moment, but she felt almost like she was being lulled to sleep by the pleasure. Such moments had been too few lately, and she longed for uninterrupted time with Mr. Darcy.

  To distract herself with such thoughts, Elizabeth turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam. “You have been here for some time, sir. Will you be required to return to your regiment soon?”

  “You wish me gone, do you?” asked the colonel.

  “Of course. I must protect my sister’s sensibilities from you.”

  They all laughed, though Jane exclaimed: “Lizzy!”

  The colonel, however, directed a tender look at Jane
. “I believe, Miss Elizabeth, that I am quite ready to give up my commission. Though it has been on my mind for a time, recent events have made it almost a certainty.”

  Jane blushed, but Elizabeth only beamed at the man with pleasure. “By all means, sir. I believe we would all be relieved if you took up a much less dangerous profession.”

  “You do not know how truthfully you speak,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam with a mournful frown. “These new recruits do not know one end of a rifle from the other. I am in far more danger from them than I would be from legions of the French!”

  Again, they all laughed. Elizabeth found herself content. Her dearest sister would be cared for by a good man who would protect and love her. There was nothing more for her to wish.

  “Shall we, perhaps, walk toward the river, Miss Elizabeth?” asked Mr. Darcy, pulling Elizabeth from her reverie. “I believe a walk would do me good after that excellent lunch.”

  “I should think so!” teased Elizabeth. “I believe you ate enough for any two men.”

  “It is nothing unusual,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam with his usual insouciance. “I have never seen a man with as healthy an appetite as Darcy.”

  “You should not speak,” said Jane in the teasing tone she sometimes used with Elizabeth. “I have it on good authority that you ate enough for three men.”

  They all laughed, though Colonel Fitzwilliam pouted at such a characterization. Elizabeth agreed with Mr. Darcy’s suggestion, and she was helped to her feet. They wandered for some time, stopping near the river where Mr. Darcy cast smooth stones out onto the water, skipping them several times before they sank into the watery depths. Elizabeth tried her hand herself, laughingly managing a few skips of her own.

  “It is much easier on a still pond,” said Mr. Darcy. “Moving water skews the results of the throw, and this river is much too small to do skipping stones any real justice.”