“Only a modest bit.”
“Oh then, you could possibly play us something. You might not have come across an instrument as grand as the one here,” she paused. “What about your sisters? Do they play? Have they any other remarkable skills? I suppose, they paint.”
When she was soon assured that not all sisters could play and none could paint, Lady Catherine seemed earnestly confused; especially since she knew of poorer families who had managed to train their daughters in the arts. Worse, her confusion swiftly mounted to alarm when she learnt thereafter that the girls had grown up without a governess. “My word! How truly odd! Your poor mother must have spent all her waking hours tutoring you sisters, then?”
“Mother spending all waking hours tutoring us?” the very notion made for a picture so amusing, Elizabeth could barely contain her grin, “not really, Ma’am, no. However, we were furnished with all the means and the books we needed to pursue an education.”
Lady Catherine would not be convinced, for such an upbringing could lead to indiscipline and a wasted youth. Furthermore, she did not hold back from listing several instances of families fortunate enough to be equipped with governesses by her, and who had later gone on to thank her for it. “Anyhow, I take it none of your younger sisters are out in society yet, Miss Bennet?”
“Ma’am, all of them are out.”
Her ladyship’s alarm returned, and more emphatically than before, that a family would allow girls so young to venture out amidst the temptations and frolic of society.
“Tis true, Ma’am,” Elizabeth nodded calmly. “My youngest sister, is hardly sixteen. Some might consider her too young to be out. However, in a family of five, if an older sibling is not settled in marriage early, for whatever reason; do the younger ones not have a right to enjoy their youth? Might these norms not breed resentment amongst sisters?”
“My, my, Miss Bennet, you do speak with great confidence for one who is not very old. Tell me, what might your age be?”
Elizabeth’s smile took on a pink hue, “Ma’am, now that is a number I surely hope I would not be expected to confess in the company of so many, seeing how I have three grown younger sisters.”
It was the second time her question had been astonishingly challenged in the matter of a few minutes. The further the astonishment on the woman’s stern brows rose, the more Elizabeth found herself humoured.
“Oh come,” sighed Lady Catherine, “there is no need for fuss. You look young - not beyond 20”
“I admit, I am not yet twenty and one”
The evening trailed to an end with games set at two tables. Not surprisingly, the table of quadrille was excessively noisy with Lady Catherine heading each conversation. On the other hand, the second table of cards with Miss Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson turned out to be superlatively dull.
At the time of farewell, her ladyship announced her predictions for the weather in the coming days and summoned a carriage for her guests. Profusely thanking his patroness for her generosity, Mr. Collins joined his group in the carriage. As soon as it driven off, he pose his cousin with questions pertaining to the hospitality at Rosings.
Trying to be gracious, Elizabeth spoke as warmly of her ladyship as her conscience would allow; but that was nowhere near enough for Mr. Collins, who then took it upon himself to flatter her with endless enthusiasm.
***
It was for a week that Sir Williams stayed at Hunsford. It was more than enough for the father in him to be convinced of his daughter’s good fortune on having found such a fortuitous house, husband and neighbours – the sort that anyone else in her position could only dream of.
After he left, Mr. Collins spent a good many hours in the day at work in the garden or reading in his book room that overlooked the lane. It thus gave a grateful Elizabeth the freedom to be able to spend her days with her friend in a private room at the back of the house, without his interference.
In the days that followed, Mr. Collins and his wife often walked to Rosings. The favour was returned, though not as often. Whenever her ladyship did visit the cottage , the smallest details never eluded her eye or judgement as to the runnings of the Collins’ household. Elizabeth observed how she wielded a similar dominance amongst the rest of her parish too.
Evenings at Rosings were an affair that took place twice a week. The subsequent visits that followed that first evening bore a remarkable likeness to her first evening spent at the mansion. Apart from these dinners and her conversations with Charlotte, there was little else for Elizabeth to do at Hunsford.
However, that was no reason for boredom. If anything, it gave her opportunities to admire the birth of a lovely spring season and the sunny charms of its touch on the gardens outside. In particular, an orchard edging the other side of Rosings’ trimmed parks.
Like a scene from the masterful painting of a picture-gallery, a neat pathway rolled through its groves, sheltered by bordering trees bowing into neat arches, and graced by sprouting buds unfolding their freshest petals. It soon became the favourite route for her daily walks, where she often strolled while the remaining members of the cottage would visit Lady Catherine. Fortunately for her, the lure of this grove had evaded the attention of everyone else, allowing her plenty of solitude thither, away from the prying eyes of her ladyship.
Thus passed the first fortnight of her visit at Hunsford.
***
“I have news to share,” Mr. Collins came rushing into the drawing room one day, a couple of weeks before Easter - nearly startling the ladies with his urgency, “Lady Catherine’s nephew shall be joining us at Hunsford, soon.”
“Oh,” smiled Charlotte, glancing at her friend, “that is welcome news. Is it not, Eliza?”
Looking up from her book, she nodded briefly, “Yes .”
But a few moments after returning to the page she had been reading, Elizabeth found herself losing her way amidst its long sentences, its words ceasing to be coherent, as her thoughts could not help but float adrift. “Mr. Darcy?”
There were not very many people whose company she did not prefer to be in - and he was one. Yet, there was a twinge of excitement in her chest just then, for the arrival of Mr. Darcy should bring a new shade of colour to the parties that were otherwise becoming quite monotonous. “A perfect opportunity it would perhaps be,” she wondered,“ to discern Mr. Darcy’s attitude around his intended, in the presence of his aunt,” the notion coaxed a smile upon her lips. “And to possibly witness Miss Bingley’s schemes of luring him fail remarkably.”
True, it was quite unlike this sensible daughter of the Bennet family to interest herself in gossip, or in the schemes and designs of others. However, when it came to Mr. Darcy, there were exceptions to be made. This was one such!
Her instincts were further strengthened that week when Lady Catherine was in the greatest spirits in anticipation of her nephew’s arrival. Speaking about him with a glowing fondness of the sort that she never lavished upon anyone else, and frowning upon the news that frequent meetings had already taken place between him and Miss Bennet, at Longbourn.
Miss Bingley would stand no chance, it seemed.
On the morning, Mr. Collins was first to bring home the news of the carriage’s arrival; and then, on the following day, the first to make an appearance at Rosings, to offer his regards.
“Oh, my, Eliza,” Charlotte excitedly called out soon after, stepping aside from the drawn drapes by the window of her husband’s library, hurrying to her friend who was in the back room, drinking tea. “Mr. Collins is on his way back. I spotted him crossing the lane,” her eyes were wide with surprise. “He is accompanied by Mr. Darcy, and another man who appears to be his cousin!”
“Oh,” Elizabeth set her teacup down, and rose, “Mr. Darcy and his cousin?”
“Yes, his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, the younger son of his uncle - whom Mr. Collins spoke of yesterday,” she clasped her friend’s hand excitedly, allowing her not a second to respond. “It is you I have to thank for this hono
ur of having the noble company of Mr. Darcy pay my home a visit so soon.”
“What?” laughed Elizabeth shortly, about to turn down the compliment. She was cut short by the sound of the door-bell revealing the arrival of visitors.
The first to extend his greetings was Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was not younger than thirty and not too handsome. However, he was the most gentlemanly of the lot, as Elizabeth swiftly perceived from both his speech and his personality. By the time she turned to Mr. Darcy, however, the pleasantness in her gaze disappeared.
“Not a change, whatsoever,” she sighed.
In every way did Mr. Darcy continue to match her less than agreeable memories of him from Hertfordshire. As always, he paid his respects with reserve to Mrs. Collins, and then to her - during which, she only spared him a quick look. Yet, he wore his characteristic expression so decidedly that it gave no hint of his ideas about her. With a brief curtsey in reply, Elizabeth ended her obligations of civility towards him.
Having listened, in prolonged silence, to his cousin make several amiable inquiries and deliver several gentle opinions with an elegance that came so naturally to him, Darcy thought it best to join in with a sentence or two of his own for the sake of propriety.
“Mrs. Collins,” he cleared his throat, “you do have a home of very charming proportions here.”
“Oh why, thank you, Mr. Darcy.” Charlotte’s smile broadened in full earnest. While Elizabeth was happy for her friend, she could not help but wonder what could have prompted the man to have come out of his corner after having kept to himself there, for so long.
“And your gardens, Mr. Collins - I admit, they seem almost as immaculate as lush parks of wealthy estates I have come across.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I do fancy caring for them myself.” The compliment being as good a one as Mr. Collins could have hoped for, his gladdened spirits were about to ramble on with profuse expressions of gratitude but was cut short when Darcy turned his attention to Elizabeth instead.
“Miss Bennet, I hope your family has been well since I saw them last at Longbourn.”
“Yes, they are well,” she paused, her tone taking on a slightly sharper shift, “my sister, Jane, has been in London for the past three months. Have you, perhaps, managed to meet her during your stay there?”
Elizabeth knew far too well that he had not troubled himself to do such a thing. But she was desirous of knowing if Mr. Darcy had any notion of why his friend, Mr. Bingley, might not have met her sister despite having favoured her company so plainly at Longbourn. Or if he had any knowledge of the discomforting meetings between Caroline Bingley and Jane that might have led her sweet sister to grow disillusioned in so short a time.
She looked on, studying his stare, closer than she had ever cared to study it before, for any hint that might give his knowledge away. But, she saw nothing beyond a confused frown as he shrugged a shoulder.
“I must admit, I did not have the opportunity of meeting Miss Bennet, at London.”
An awkward moment later, Elizabeth put the matter to rest; and the cousins departed soon thereafter.
Chapter 3
“How courteous his conduct!”
“Yes,” chirped Maria, joining her sister. “And how gentle his speech too.”
“All of that, and still being a man of witty disposition,” added Elizabeth. “Colonel Fitzwilliam is an admirable gentleman. He most certainly would add several servings of cheer to the evenings at Rosings, don’t you think?”
“I do.”
“And I.”
Oddly though, their anticipations had to wait, for it was a good while before they heard anything at all from Rosings - the only visitor caring to drop by at the cottage that week, being Colonel Fitzwilliam. And it was not until a whole week thereafter, on Easter-day, in church, that Lady Catherine mentioned in passing, that they might come over that evening.
When they arrived at the drawing room of the mansion later, they were welcomed cordially by her ladyship. However, Elizabeth did not need long to discern that their presence was nowhere near welcome as it was before. For, Lady Catherine was far too enamoured by the presence of her nephews now – Mr. Darcy, in particular – to spare any time and attention for the other members around.
“Miss Bennet, may I?” Colonel Fitzwilliam pointed at the empty chair beside hers, his cheerful countenance making it obvious that he was looking forward to the pleasure of her company.
“Yes, you may,” nodded Elizabeth happy to oblige - after which, he took his seat.
“So, how do you like the Kent countryside, Miss Bennet?”
“Dare I say,” she crisscrossed her palms upon her lap, “I quite like it here, Colonel.”
He thought he noticed a glow come upon her pretty face that suited her well and decided she must be enjoying her stay at Hunsford. “And how does it compare with the countryside back home, at Hertfordshire?”
“Perhaps,” she paused for a moment, “I must reserve judgement on that one.”
The Colonel chuckled, impressed by the fineness with which she avoided a direct answer. “Fond of traveling , are you then?”
“I am fond of traveling , and I am fond of staying too,” her eyes sparkled. “It depends on the books, or the people, I have for company.”
“Books, did you say? Any books that have taken your fancy lately?”
Elizabeth almost grinned, realising it was the first she had smiled as much in Rosings, or even Hunsford, for that matter. “Heard of Evelina? By Fanny Burney?” It was another favourite subject of hers, and before she knew it, they were discussing the title at length. Thus flowed their conversations, from one subject to another, there apparently being no dearth of interesting topics between the two acquaintances to keep it going - till the chatter and chuckles grew lively enough that it was difficult for the rest to ignore. Specifically, for Mr. Darcy, who had been watching their interactions with interest, while having to remind himself to look away on catching his stares wander towards his cousin and Miss Bennet more times than he deemed necessary.
“Fitzwilliam,” Lady Catherine finally spoke up, “what subject is it that has you both so engrossed? Pray, do tell us, so we might share in its discussions too.”
Darcy was relieved that his aunt had finally asked the question aloud - partly because he was glad that her attention was now distracted away from him, but mostly because he could not deny that he was intrigued too by what his cousin’s answer might be.
“Music,” confessed the Colonel, “it is the subject of music that has us so engrossed”
“Oh why, how delightful!” she declared, “Do not chatter amongst yourselves, then. Tell us your views, for music is a topic that greatly appeals to me. I have a natural flair for it.” After professing on and on, about how she and her daughter might have been revered musicians had they learnt the art, she turned to Darcy, “I do hope Georgina is progressing with her lessons well.”
“Yes, she is,” he nodded, “and she is getting to be very good at it, if I may say so myself.”
“It is reassuring that your sister is getting good. But, she should not ever take that as a sign to neglect practice.”
“On the contrary, ma’am, it seems to encourage her to practice regularly.”
Elizabeth looked on with interest at their parley, for there was a sort of rare tenderness with which Mr. Darcy spoke of his sister that she never discerned in any of his earlier speeches - whatever be the subject of it.
“And that is what I have been waiting to hear. In music, there is no such thing as excessive study or rehearsing - not if one strives for perfection. I shall remind Georgina of this again when I write to her in a month. It is precisely what I have been telling Miss Bennet too, and knowing Mrs. Collins does not have one of her own, I have offered her the use of the exemplary pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson’s room. Besides,” she shrugged, “it would come as no interference to anyone’s valuable time in Rosings either if Mrs. Collins chose to play in that room.”
Mr. Darcy raised his brow, embarrassed by his aunt’s opinions that were not expressed with much kindness towards their guests. Fortunately for all, the pots of coffee that were soon brought into the drawing room by the servants managed to do away with the air that turned momentarily awkward thereafter.
“Miss Bennet,” Colonel Fitzwilliam arose from his chair spiritedly, once done with his coffee, “you said you would play for me. I do hope you have not forgotten your promise.” She darted him a glance, reaffirming that she had no intention of forgetting her promise and then glided towards the instrument without fuss. Colonel Fitzwilliam was only too happy to join her, by pulling out a chair for himself, nearby.
Lady Catherine listened to a line or two, for the sake of propriety, before resuming her prattle with her nephew. However, it was not long before Darcy excused himself from his overbearing aunt and charted an unhurried path, towards the pianoforte. Leaning by its edge from where he could closely watch both, the fingers that were rendering a symphony with elegance, and the face of the elegant performer; he listened in without any interruption - much to Elizabeth’s growing surprise.
She continued playing, trying not to glimpse in the direction of her most intent audience. Despite her pulse having quickened, she would not attribute its sudden pace to the imposing nature of Mr. Darcy’s stance. “Anyone watching so closely would render a performer nervous.”
Yet, several lines later, when brushing it off with trivial justifications did not appear to help her nerves, Elizabeth soon feared she would miss a note or two if it thus continued. So, at the end of her very first recital, she decided to address him and put an end to the steadfastness of his gazes.
“Why, Mr. Darcy? What could be the purpose behind your listening to my music so intently? Is it that you intend to alarm me?” she blinked firmly, to break the gaze. “If that is so, I must warn you that I am not one to be easily intimidated, despite your sister being a masterful player. In fact,” her finger pressed a sharp note, “I tend to resist anyone’s attempts to disconcert me, and I find my confidence grows by bounds instead!”
For The Sake Of Her Happiness Page 2