by Jann Rowland
“It is nearly two miles distant, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bennet, her tone faintly challenging.
But Darcy was not about to say anything which might be construed to be critical of her. “I did not have the opportunity to scale its heights when I was in Hertfordshire.” Darcy paused, and then directed a rueful smile at her. “Rather I had no guide of the area who could inform me of the wonders of its view. When next I am in the area, perhaps you will be so good as to show it to me.”
“When you are next in the area?” asked Miss Bennet. Her tone was all that was skeptical.
“Of course,” replied Darcy, ignoring her tone. “Miss Bingley once suggested that you are an excellent walker, but upon hearing of your ability to traverse four miles just to see such a sight, I must say that your talent is of prodigious proportions.”
Miss Bennet regarded him evenly, making Darcy feel decidedly uncomfortable. In the end, she did not reply concerning that matter. Instead, she changed the subject, stating her need to return to the parsonage, though she made no immediate move to do so. Rather, she paused for a few moments before speaking again.
“I hope, Mr. Darcy, that your aunt and cousins were well when you left Rosings this morning.”
It took no greatness of mind to discern of what Miss Bennet spoke, and he moved to reassure her. “My aunt and my cousins had not yet descended when I departed, but I must suppose that they are as they were last night. And though Lady Catherine is a woman of decided opinions and an imperious nature, she does not affect me.”
“Perhaps she does not affect you, sir, but she has a great deal of influence over the life of a very close friend. I would not wish for anything . . . untoward to affect Mrs. Collins’s life at Hunsford.”
“Whatever Lady Catherine thinks of the way I conduct my business, I would like to think it has no bearing on your friend. And I would never allow her to take her frustrations out on Mr. and Mrs. Collins.”
For a long moment, Miss Bennet looked at him, and then she nodded once, before excusing herself. Darcy watched her as she departed, knowing that she had taken his meaning in every particular. The words they had exchanged had been coded slightly, but Darcy was warmed at her concern for her friend, such that she would consider Mrs. Collins’s comfort before her own. It made Darcy respect and esteem her more than ever before.
Upon Darcy’s return to Rosings, the dreaded confrontation ensued. The moment he walked into the breakfast parlor, Darcy felt the weight of Lady Catherine’s eyes upon him, and he knew that she suspected he had seen Miss Bennet that morning, and was made unhappy by it. Anne, as was her custom, sat at Lady Catherine’s side, concentrating on her toast and tea, looking irritable, no doubt because she understood what was about to happen as well. Though he wished to spare his cousin the scene that would certainly arise, Darcy knew there was nothing to be done.
“I see you have returned,” said his aunt, her tone almost offhand. “May I assume that you have now surveyed all of the estate? I would much rather have you at Rosings attending your cousin, for that is the most important reason for your visit.”
Had he had the luxury, Darcy was certain Fitzwilliam might have snorted at her assertion. For that matter, Darcy wished he possessed the luxury himself.
“Assisting you with estate business is the reason Fitzwilliam and I come to Rosings, Aunt,” said Darcy, sitting at his place and accepting a cup of tea from the footman. It seemed like simple avoidance was for the best at present—or at least for as long as Darcy was able to manage it.
“You know that is not the truth, Darcy,” replied Lady Catherine. “I have been patient—Anne has been patient—but I cannot imagine that any further delay is necessary. It is high time we set a date for the wedding. This summer will do—a summer wedding in Kent would be a lovely affair.”
Darcy sighed and turned his attention on Lady Catherine, now having no other choice. “You have heard me make my sentiments known to you many times, Aunt. I have no intention of marrying Anne. I am heartily sorry if this causes you grief, but it is time to allow this subject to rest.”
“Of course, you mean to marry Anne,” said Lady Catherine. Her tone remained even, but there was a hint of steel underneath, as if she meant to enforce her wishes. “It was the favorite wish of your mother. As a man of duty, I am certain you will agree that acting as your mother designed is of paramount consideration.”
“Actually, I know of no such thing, Lady Catherine,” replied Darcy. “My mother never mentioned any such wish to me, and my father refused to even consider it, as you well know. Regardless, it is of little matter. There was never any contract signed or marriage articles prepared, and I am under no obligation to yield, nor do I have any intention of doing so.”
“Let me be rightly understood,” said Lady Catherine, her composure finally cracking, “you will marry Anne. I insist upon it. You are under the claims of duty and honor, both of which would be forfeit should you refuse. I will not be gainsaid. We will publish the engagement directly in the London papers.”
“No, Aunt, you shall not. I do not wish for it, and neither does Anne. We shall not bow to so unreasonable demands as these.”
“Unreasonable?” demanded Lady Catherine. “How dare you refer to your mother’s wishes in such a cavalier fashion!”
“As I stated, Aunt,” gritted Darcy, “I know nothing of any such wishes.”
The lady’s jaw worked, knotting the muscles therein. She was as angry as Darcy had ever seen, though her behavior was surprising—usually her tempers tended toward unbridled displays of riotous anger, rather than this quiet seething.
“It is Miss Bennet, is it not?”
“I cannot imagine to what you refer, madam. I never had any intention of offering for Anne. Miss Bennet’s presence at Hunsford has nothing to do with this resolution, which has been fixed since my father passed away.”
“I can hardly credit that,” snapped Lady Catherine. “You have been sniffing around the woman since she has been here, and her presence has distracted you from your duty, for you have never been so unreasonable before.”
“I never gave into your whims on any previous occasion.”
“But never have you outright refused.”
“Only because I wished to keep the peace.”
Lady Catherine’s snort bespoke her opinion of his avowal. But her pique took a direction which surprised Darcy.
“Send for Mr. Collins,” snapped she at a nearby footman. “If the woman is distracting you from your duty, then I shall see that she is sent back to her home.”
“You will do no such thing!” exclaimed Darcy, rising to his feet. “Leave us, now,” said Darcy, speaking to the servants. “No one is to be dispatched to the parsonage unless I specifically direct it.”
Though the unfortunate footman looked back and forth between Darcy and Lady Catherine, he said nothing, only bowing and departing the room, with his fellows in tow. Darcy turned back to Lady Catherine, noting the flaring of the woman’s nostrils, and the wild way in which she regarded him. Yes, the explosion was imminent.
“You will not order the servants in my own home!” screeched Lady Catherine. “I will not have it.”
She made to depart from the room, no doubt to demand that her will was carried out, but Darcy inserted himself in her path, standing in the way arms crossed, an implacable determination to protect the woman he admired steeling his resolve. Lady Catherine, unused as she was to having her will thwarted, looked at him, incomprehension staining her countenance. It all too soon turned to rage.
“How dare you!”
“What is all this yelling?”
Turning, Darcy noted that his uncle had entered the room and was looking at his sister with some asperity. Fitzwilliam was watching his father with apparent satisfaction, and Anne had fairly wilted with relief. Darcy could own to more than a little relief himself—his uncle had finally arrived at Rosings.
“Hugh!” exclaimed Lady Catherine. “I know not what providence has resulte
d in your arrival, but it is most fortuitous. Your nephew has taken leave of his senses and is ready to throw his heritage away on a young country miss with little to recommend her.”
Far from provoking his outrage, Lady Catherine’s words prompted a grin from the earl. “A country miss, is it Darcy? Well, it is about time you found a girl to pursue. Between you and my two sons, I had thought I would be in my dotage before any of you finally got around to marrying. Perhaps you should show your cousins how it is done so that I might obtain some grandchildren to spoil.”
“I am certain I am capable of finding a woman myself, father,” replied Fitzwilliam in a laughing tone.
“Yes, but the problem is whether that will happen before I am on my death bed,” rejoined the earl. Then he turned back to Darcy. “Might I secure an introduction to this wondrous creature?”
“Hugh!” exclaimed a shocked Lady Catherine yet again. “Whatever can you mean? You know that Darcy is engaged to Anne!”
“Are you still pushing that tired delusion?” asked the earl. “If I had known you were still speaking of that, I would have essayed to take these yearly visits upon myself, rather than subjecting Darcy to your ill humors.”
“It is not a delusion,” cried Lady Catherine, and Darcy had the distinct impression that had she not thought it beneath her dignity, she might have stamped her foot in her rage. “My sister and I agreed to it while they were both in their cradles. I will not be denied.”
“Yes, you will!”
The earl’s loudly barked words brought Lady Catherine up short, and she peered at him, as if attempting to gage how serious he was. Apparently, she did not like what she found, for her lips thinned and she grimaced.
“Listen carefully, Catherine, for I shall not repeat myself. I have specific knowledge of the situation to which you refer. George Darcy did not wish for his son to be bound to Anne, which is why you do not have signed marriage articles to wave in our faces. I know not of what my sister wished, but as his father declined to pursue it, there is nothing you can do on the matter.”
The earl turned to Darcy. “I assume this argument has come about because you have declined to propose to your cousin?”
“It has,” replied Darcy.
“There you have it,” replied Lord Matlock, turning back to his sister. “Darcy will not be moved. There will be no marriage. I suggest you accustom yourself to that fact.”
Though Darcy thought for a moment that Lady Catherine would protest further, instead she looked away. Darcy knew that her machinations were by no means at an end, but he thought she would be silent on the subject for the present. If only he could induce Miss Bennet’s returning regard, he might be married, and forever put the woman’s maneuverings at an end!
“Now, I wish to speak more specifically about Anne’s situation.”
The earl looked at the young woman who had sat quietly at the table while her relations were shouting. She looked down at her hands, embarrassed under their combined scrutiny, and Darcy wondered where the slightly impertinent miss to whom he had been reintroduced these past days had gone.
Lord Matlock seemed to understand the situation, as he sat by Anne’s side and took her hand in his. “It seems to me, my dear, that we, as a family, have failed you.”
“Of what can you be speaking, Hugh?” asked Lady Catherine, her irritation still evident in her voice. “Anne is very well indeed, as she has always been.”
“And you have not sent me frequent letters, complaining about your daughter’s ill health?” asked the earl, turning an unfriendly glare on his sister. “Most of these letters, coincidentally, hint at a sudden improvement in Anne’s condition, should Darcy marry her.”
“She has pined after him,” said Lady Catherine, shooting a dark look at Darcy. “How do you think she feels that he has refused to do his duty?”
“Oh, Mama, I have never pined after Darcy,” cried Anne. Then seeming to realize what she had said, and to whom, Anne shrank back even further in her chair.
“Of course you have,” exclaimed Lady Catherine.
“Peace, Catherine,” growled the earl. “I wish for Anne’s opinion. You will be silent long enough for her to give it to us.”
Though Lady Catherine subsided, the harsh glare she directed at her daughter promised consequences if Anne dared disagree with her. It did not escape Anne’s attention either, if her sudden refusal to look at her mother was any indication.
“Enough of that,” said Fitzwilliam, standing and facing his aunt. Darcy joined him. “Do you not see what you have become, Aunt? You are a worse tyrant than Napoleon has ever been.”
“How dare you?” cried Lady Catherine. “I have always done the best for my daughter.”
“You are a tyrant, Mother,” said Anne.
As one, Darcy and Fitzwilliam turned to look at Anne, and it seemed her mother’s imperious nature had finally pierced the subservience she used to protect herself. Her eyes fairly blaze at Lady Catherine, and though Darcy was certain it was sapping much of her strength, she did not back down.
“You have told me for years I must marry Darcy, but never once have you asked my opinion on the matter. It might come as a surprise to you, but I do not wish to marry. I do not wish to marry anyone. I would much rather see what can be done to regain my health, for at present, I think a marriage to anyone, and especially should a child come, would bring about my death.”
Darcy looked at his cousin with awe as she wilted once again in her chair. To think that such a young woman, a woman from whom he had always kept his distance, could consider her death in such certain terms broke his heart. His uncle was entirely correct—they had failed her as a family, particularly he and Fitzwilliam, who had been coming to Rosings every year, and had not done anything more than ignore and avoid her.
“I did not know you felt that way, Cousin,” said Darcy, as he stepped forward and knelt, taking her other hand in his. “I will own that I have never thought of anything other than my own desires in this matter, and I am heartily ashamed of my conduct. If it will remove you from Rosings, I will consent to marry you. We can consider children at a later time.”
Fitzwilliam’s gasp was easily audible, and Darcy could almost see the grin he was certain had spread across Lady Catherine’s face. Anne, however, only smiled at him and shook her head.
“You do not wish it, Darcy, and neither do I. We would not suit. I appreciate your selfless nature, but I must decline it.”
“There is no need for that,” said the earl. “If Anne wishes it, I will convey her back to London where she can be examined by the finest physicians. If it is at all possible, we will improve your health, my dear.”
“I do wish it, Uncle.”
“Then it is settled.”
The earl turned and directed a questioning look at his sister, his eyebrow raised. But though it might have appeared to a casual viewer that he was looking for his sister’s approval, it was nothing more than a challenge. Lady Catherine seemed to understand this, and though her jaw might have been fashioned from granite, it was she who looked away.
It was late in the afternoon when the parsonage received several visitors, the identity of one a shock to Elizabeth. She thought that Mr. Collins might expire from the honor of having the Earl of Matlock in his parlor. The benefit to his awe was the fact that he was also struck speechless, though Elizabeth thought that his exclamations after the man finally left would not cease for the rest of her visit.
The earl himself was a pleasant man, much in the same mold as his son, though Elizabeth suspected that he did not descend to the same jocularity which was at times a hallmark of the colonel’s character. He was easy and friendly and seemingly interested to meet them all, though Elizabeth thought she detected more of an interest in her, than in the Collinses.
“I am very pleased to make your acquaintance,” said the earl, gesturing to them all. “My nephew and my son have told me much of you, and I see that the praise was not in any way understated.”
The earl laughed and shook his head, even as out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth could seem Mr. Collins’s eyes bulging due to her impertinent words.
“No, I assure you not, Miss Bennet. In fact, Darcy has been gracious with his praise. I understand you all made Darcy’s acquaintance in the autumn.”
“Yes, we did, my lord,” said Charlotte.
“Then can I assume that Darcy here acquitted himself well?”
Elizabeth could not help but laugh at the earl’s sally, and at Mr. Darcy’s suddenly red face, and in this she was joined by Mr. Darcy’s relations. She wondered if the earl knew something of Mr. Darcy’s behavior while he had been in Hertfordshire.
“I think that Mr. Darcy might have impressed those in Meryton as a severe sort of gentleman,” said Elizabeth. “But I also know he is regarded as intelligent, sober, honest, and I personally know that he is more approachable once you know him better.”
The earl nodded, still displaying a great smile for them all to see. “He has had a time of it, becoming master of a great estate at such a young age. I hope that in the future he is able to find the right situation which will allow him to relax more, and allow his softer side to show, for he is truly an amiable man in the right circumstances.”
That statement brought Elizabeth up short, but her surprise was masked as Lord Matlock turned to Charlotte and began to speak with her. Elizabeth almost thought he had some deeper meaning in his words, though she could not quite understand what they were. The sight of Mr. Darcy looking on her with his typical seriousness did not assist her in understanding, nor did it help her to regain her composure. When he spoke, it was directly to her.
“We will be departing on the morrow, Miss Bennet,” said he, looking faintly apologetic.