He smiled, but there was something troubled in his smile.
“If anything should happen to you…”
“Nothing will happen to me,” she said, stroking his hand.
“No, of course not. I just do not like to think of you in pain.”
“Then do not think of it. Think of the ball instead—though, if I cannot escape the attentions of Mr. Collins, you will no doubt have to think of me in pain, and, even worse, see it, for he is sure to step on my toes!”
“That, at least, I can prevent,” said Darcy. “If he claims your hand I will rescue you, I promise you.”
“Will you ride up on a white charger?”
“I brought one with me from Pemberley especially,” he remarked.
Lizzy laughed.
“I am very glad we came,” she said, leaning back against him and smiling contentedly. “It has done me good to see Jane again. In particular, it has done me good to be able to talk to her as it has set my mind at rest on a few things which were worrying me.”
They continued to talk, but as they did so, Darcy continued to be troubled. Elizabeth had had her sister to talk to, but he had talked of his fears to no one. He knew that she would soon be facing an ordeal that neither his wealth nor his position in the world could help her with. Worse, it brought back dark memories of the night of his sister’s birth, when, as a ten-year-old boy, he had wandered, desolate, through the halls of Pemberley, whilst anxious voices had echoed down the corridors.
So troubled was he by these memories that he was glad when Elizabeth exclaimed, “I believe your aunt is here!” and looking out of the window, he saw Lady Catherine’s coach.
The coach rolled to a halt. Footmen jumped down from the roof and opened the door, and Lady Catherine stepped out. Behind her followed Mr. Collins.
Lady Catherine’s commanding voice could be heard through the window, even though it was closed: “… terrible roads… small park… intolerable drive…”
Interspersed were Mr. Collins’s exclamations, “So noble… so good… so condescending…”
And so the odd couple proceeded from the coach to the front door.
“Poor Jane!” said Elizabeth. “We had better go and help her make her unexpected guests welcome.”
“I would rather stay here with you,” said Darcy.
“Do not tempt me! But I cannot leave my sister to face your aunt alone. If I do not miss my guess, Lady Catherine will be criticising everything and everyone roundly.”
And so it proved. As Lizzy and Darcy left the library and crossed the hall, Lady Catherine’s voice could be heard saying, “And so you are settled in Nottinghamshire, Mrs. Bingley. A very inconvenient country. It has the worst weather in England, I believe.”
As Lizzy and Darcy entered the drawing-room, the scene was revealed. Jane stood by the fireplace, with her husband beside her, endeavouring to welcome Lady Catherine. Lady Catherine, however, would not let them speak. Mr. Collins was bobbing up and down behind her ladyship, endeavouring to agree with everything she said, whilst at the same time ingratiating himself with Jane and Bingley and smiling pompously at Mr. and Mrs. Bennet.
Mr. Bennet picked up a newspaper and began to read it assiduously, but such a scene was as welcome to Mrs. Bennet as it was unwelcome to her husband, and she replied firmly to Lady Catherine, “On the contrary. Nottinghamshire has some of the finest weather in the country.”
“If it had some of the finest weather in the country, then it would not be snowing,” said Lady Catherine.
“Quite so,” said Mr. Collins. “Oh, indubitably so.”
“I believe that any country may have snow in December,” said Bingley peaceably.
“We would not dream of it in Kent,” said Lady Catherine.
“In every way a superior country,” said Mr. Collins. “And Rosings Park is one of its finest houses.”
“Only one of its finest houses?” enquired Mr. Bennet with a wink at Lizzy.
Lady Catherine turned towards Mr. Collins with raised eyebrows.
“That is to say, the finest house in Kent,” said Mr. Collins, “a positive jewel in the crown of the countryside, a most noble and elegant dwelling of magnificent and munificent proportions that vies with its illustrious owner in its sagacious and splendid proportions of magnificent munificent sagacious…”
He trailed away in some confusion, having lost himself in the labyrinthine excesses of his compliment.
“You express yourself very well,” said Mr. Bennet gravely.
“Papa!” said Elizabeth, trying to control her laughter. “You forget yourself!”
“Do I, my dear?” he asked mildly.
“That is to say, you forget to welcome Jane’s guests,” she said.
“Ah, yes. Never mind. I am sure Jane is capable of welcoming them herself. If you will excuse me, I believe that Mr. Bingley has a library and I am eager to explore its riches.”
“Lady Catherine, will you not sit down?” asked Jane, as her father left the room.
Lady Catherine looked at the sofa as though wondering whether it was fit to carry her illustrious personage, then said, “I think I will retire to my room.”
“You must be fatigued after your journey,” said Mrs. Bennet.
This was a challenge Lady Catherine could not resist.
“I am never fatigued,” she said. “I do not believe in fatigue. Pray ring for some tea.”
And so saying she removed her cloak, which she handed to Mr. Collins. She sat down on the sofa, peeling off her gloves as she looked around.
“You have a few fine pieces of furniture,” she said to Jane. “The table is pretty.” She looked at the other pieces as if to say, But the rest is not.
Jane thanked her politely.
“And so, you have just had a baby. A boy, I understand.”
“Yes, your ladyship,” said Jane, sitting down in a chair by the fire.
“I saw no point in having a boy myself,” said Lady Catherine. “Since my sister had already had one, I decided I would have a girl instead.”
They were by now all seated.
“It is all very well deciding to have a girl when there is no entail,” said Mrs. Bennet with a heavy sigh. “Once an entail is involved there is no knowing what will happen.”
“The de Bourghs have never believed in entails,” replied Lady Catherine grandly.
“And I am sure I have told Mr. Bennet the same thing until I am blue in the face, but will he listen to me? No. We must have an entail, though why we must have one I cannot imagine,” said Mrs. Bennet. “If not for Kitty, I do not know what we should do.”
This remark surprised everyone who was not privy to Mrs. Bennet’s plan of marrying her younger daughter to Mr. Collins’s brother and her hopeful belief that Mr. Collins himself would soon be dead.
Lady Catherine ignored her and said to Elizabeth, “You must have a girl.”
Mrs. Bennet shook her head firmly.
“No, Lady Catherine, with that I cannot agree,” she said. “Girls are a great deal of trouble.”
“Not if they have a governess,” said Lady Catherine. “A great deal of trouble is just what a governess will prevent. I have been the means of supplying a great many governesses to a great many deserving families and they have all thanked me for the attention most effusively. Four nieces of Mrs. Jenkinson are most delightfully situated through my means, and I have sometimes recommended young ladies who were merely accidentally mentioned to me. The families are always delighted with them. You, girl,” she said to Kitty. “Do you have a governess?”
“No, your Ladyship,” said Kitty.
“And you?” she said to Maria Lucas.
“No,” admitted Maria.
“And you?” she asked Mary.
“I have found that personal study is much more efficacious than the exhortations of another female,” said Mary. “By virtue of reading and making extensive extracts, I have, without any assistance, become the most accomplished young lady in the neighb
ourhood.”
“Indeed? And how large is your neighbourhood? No, do not reply. It is the size of a pocket handkerchief, I suppose. It is clear to me that you have all been sadly neglected,” said Lady Catherine. “Mrs. Bennet, you must take your remaining daughters in hand. It will not to do have them running off with stewards’ sons like your other girl. A nice, sensible curate would do for them, I am sure.”
“I hope I know my girls’ entitlements better than to think them fit for nothing more than a curate,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Now that Jane and Lizzy are so well settled, I see no reason why they should not marry lords. I am sure they are good enough.”
Lady Catherine ignored her and turned to Elizabeth.
“If you have a girl, she will be able to marry the Duke of Wexington’s son. He is at present two years old and will remain two years her senior throughout his life. It is a good age difference, and of course he comes from the very best family.”
“Since the baby is not born yet, it seems a little early to be finding her a husband, particularly as she may be a boy,” remarked Elizabeth.
“It is never too early,” said Lady Catherine.
“In this I have to agree, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet. “It really is never too early to think of suitable matches, for you have no idea how difficult it is to find people later on.”
“And then there is the Devingshire boy,” said Lady Catherine. “He might do, although Lord Devingshire looks like a sheep, and it would perhaps be wise to wait a few years and see which of his parents the boy favours.”
“I thank you for your interest, but I am sure our son or daughter will be able to choose their own spouse with very little help from us. Darcy and I managed to find each other. Our child will only need to follow our example to make the best match possible.”
Mrs. Bennet, completely misunderstanding Elizabeth, gave a happy sigh and said, “You are right, Lizzy, you caught a man with ten thousand a year and an estate in Derbyshire. I am sure your daughter will do just as well.”
* * *
As the days passed, the house began to take on a festive air. Greenery was brought in from the gardens to decorate the house with holly, ivy, and mistletoe adorning the pictures or threading their way through the banisters. Rich smells wafted up from the kitchens, and the scent of winter spices and rich fruit cakes filled the air. Kitty and Maria could be heard giggling as they hastily hid half-wrapped presents whenever anyone unexpectedly entered their rooms, whilst Mary began making Christmas extracts.
The day of the ball approached. It had been arranged for Christmas Eve, a time of celebration, and there was an air of excitement when the day arrived.
“How is everything coming along?” asked Mrs. Bennet.
“It is all well in hand,” said Caroline before Jane could speak. “Mr. Collins and his brother will make two extra gentlemen, but that is never to be deplored. They dance, I hope?”
“Mr. Collins certainly takes to the floor with alacrity,” said Darcy. “I remember him dancing with Elizabeth at the Netherfield ball. It was a most edifying spectacle!”
Elizabeth laughed outright.
“Poor Mr. Collins! He tries very hard, but I pity the lady who stands up with him. He turns in all the wrong places and is constantly treading on his partner’s toes or the hem of her gown.”
“I am sure the young ladies hereabouts will not mind. They are used to dancing at the local assembly, and assembly balls, you know, do not produce the best dancing…” She turned to Mr. Darcy “… as I am sure you remember only too well.”
“Perhaps not, but they produce a great deal of pleasure for those who know how to enjoy them,” said Darcy.
“Aye, they do very well, but they are not to be compared with a private ball. Are there any eligible young men about?” Mrs. Bennet asked Caroline.
“Never fear, your daughters will have a choice,” said Caroline in a droll voice.
“And you too, I hope. You are not getting any younger, and if you do not look sharp you will soon be an old maid.”
“Mama!” said Jane.
But Caroline was not at all put out.
“I thank you for your kind concern,” she said with a superior smile.
“Well, my dear, someone must be concerned, and as you have no mother then I will take it upon myself. I found three good husbands for my own girls last year and I have found another one for Kitty only last week, so I am sure I will be able to find someone for you before the end of the year.”
“Ah, yes, you did an admirable job of finding a husband for your youngest daughter. Darcy’s steward’s son, was it not? And acquired in such an unusual fashion,” said Caroline.
Darcy stepped in, turning the conversation away from such dangerous waters.
“Tell me, Bingley, who have you invited to the ball?”
“You must ask Caroline,” said Bingley. “She is the one who has managed everything.”
“She seems to be a very managing young woman,” said Mr. Bennet with an innocent air.
Elizabeth hid her laugh behind her cup of tea.
“Caroline has been a great help,” said Jane fairly.
Caroline smiled graciously and was soon reciting the guest list. It consisted of all the local worthies, together with some good neighbours with whom Jane and Bingley had become friends.
“A fair-sized ball,” said Darcy.
“Not as splendid as the balls at Pemberley, but I believe it will do,” said Caroline. “Charles means to buy a house in London soon, and the guests there will of course be more refined.”
“A house in London?” asked Mrs. Bennet.
Jane’s face fell at her mother’s eagerness.
“Why, that will be the very thing,” said Mrs. Bennet.
Fortunately for Jane’s nerves, the gong rang. It was a sign that it was time for them to retire to their rooms and dress for the ball.
The weather had remained snowy, but the local roads were still traversable. Jane had had only had three letters from more distant neighbours excusing themselves. The rest were looking forward to the evening’s entertainment.
Mr. Collins’s brother, who had been unable to join them earlier on account of business, was to arrive for the ball and then stay for a few days. It was an event which Kitty did not relish. She had told Mary and Maria that they must on no account leave him alone with her, and she sought her married sisters’ help as well.
“Never fear, you will not have to marry him,” said Elizabeth.
“You do not know how determined Mama can be,” said Kitty.
“I know exactly how determined she can be,” said Elizabeth, “but Papa will be on your side. He will not want you to marry a stupid man, and he will not see you forced into a marriage that is distasteful to you, you know.”
“I wish I had never heard of Mr. Collins’s brother,” sighed Kitty.
Elizabeth could not help but agree. Her mother had talked of him constantly for the last few days.
They parted on the landing. Elizabeth retired to her room, where she chose an amber muslin to wear. It suited her complexion, but she felt out of sorts as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, and when Darcy entered her room, looking immaculate in a ruffled white shirt with a black tailcoat and tight fitting breeches, Elizabeth gave a sigh.
“Are you unwell?” he asked in concern.
“No, not unwell, just…”
“Unhappy?” he asked searchingly.
“No, not exactly. I was just thinking that you look every bit as handsome as the day I met you, whereas I”—she looked down at her bloated figure, clothed in a tent-like dress—“I am not the same at all.”
“No,” he said, taking her hands. “You are far more beautiful.”
She laughed, but there was no laughter in his eyes. His words were sincere.
“What did I do to deserve you?” she said. “I must have done something very good.”
“I believe you played a sonata without striking one false note,” he teased her
.
“Ah, so that was it! Yes, I remember it now. You are right, of course, that feat entitled me to such a husband. I believe I deserve you after all.”
“That is better,” he said hearing her laugh. “Are you ready to go down?”
“Yes, I am.”
He gave her his arm and together they went downstairs.
Some of the guests had already arrived and there was a buzz of conversation. Elizabeth and Darcy went through into the ballroom where the musicians were tuning their instruments before striking up the opening chords of the first dance. The guests took their partners and arranged themselves around the ballroom.
Elizabeth took Darcy’s hand, causing a few raised eyebrows, for it was not customary for husbands to partner their wives, but she did not care. She saw no reason why she should not enjoy herself. When the dance ended, however, she was too fatigued to dance any more, so Darcy fetched her an ice and sat down beside her.
“You must not ignore the other guests,” she said. “You will shock everyone if you spend the evening with your wife.”
“I am used to shocking people at balls. I might as well enjoy myself into the bargain,” he told her.
But when one of Jane’s neighbours, Mrs. Withington, drew near, accompanied by a plain young girl, Darcy’s enjoyment was at an end. Mrs. Withington made it clear that her niece did not have a partner. Without precisely asking Mr. Darcy to offer the girl his hand, it was obvious that, as a gentleman, he could do no less.
“I hope Miss Withington will do me the honour of partnering me,” he said, standing up.
The girl blushed prettily and Darcy led her onto the floor.
Elizabeth could not help thinking of another similar occasion some years ago, when he had refused to dance with another partnerless young lady, who had just happened to be herself, and she was pleased to see how far his manners had improved.
Mrs. Withington sat down beside Elizabeth.
“It was very kind of your husband to ask Susan to dance. I did so want her to enjoy herself this evening, but it is difficult for the girls; there are not enough young men to go round.”
As if to underline the point, Kitty and Maria approached and sat down close by.
“It is a pity,” went on Mrs. Withington, “for Susan loves to dance, and I do not know where she is to find another partner.”
A Darcy Christmas Page 12