by Jann Rowland
“I did not know him well,” replied Anne, deciding that simple honesty was best for the present. “We have attended to that deficiency here in London. I now understand Darcy better than I ever did before.”
“And what is your conclusion?”
Anne laughed. “My conclusion is that he is the same man I had thought him to be. But you should also know that I have also determined, more than I ever had before, that though he is a good man whom any woman would be fortunate to have as a husband, he is not for me. We are too similar. We do not suit.”
Rather than begin to demand Anne’s compliance as she might have done in the past, Lady Catherine nodded slowly, her gaze introspective. “I will own that I had . . . hoped you might have changed your mind. But I am not surprised.”
“You are not?”
Lady Catherine shook her head. “No. When you left Rosings, I was confronted for the first time with a daughter who was not the person I thought her to be. You . . . you reminded me of myself, to be honest—nothing I said had any effect, and you dictated to me, rather than the reverse.”
“I had my convictions, Mother,” replied Anne. “Elizabeth helped me to understand myself, to know who I am. I am greatly indebted to her.”
A great sigh was Lady Catherine’s response, and she attempted to smile, an expression Anne had rarely seen on her mother’s countenance. “It appears we have much for which to be thankful. Miss Bennet . . .” Her mother paused and shook her head. “I was not convinced, you know, when we asked her to come to Rosings.”
“Of that, I am aware. You did it because I demanded it of you.”
“Yes,” replied her mother. “But I did not understand what you needed, I fear. I only knew what I wished for your future to be. I still wish it, if I am to be honest, but I will . . . attempt to respect your wishes. I do not wish to continue with this distance between us. You are my flesh and blood, and I wish to be your mother.”
By the time Lady Catherine finished speaking, her voice was so soft Anne was forced to strain to hear her.
“I wish it too, Mother,” said Anne. “I never wished to be estranged from you. I . . . I want to be your friend and your daughter, not your subject.”
Lady Catherine winced at the last word, but she did not try to deny it. “Then shall we start anew?”
Her expression was so hopeful, it was almost pathetic, coming from a woman who never pleaded. A lifetime of being in this woman’s company came rushing back to Anne, and she remembered how they had often been quite companionable in each other’s company.
But Anne was not about to allow her mother back into her life without a clear understanding as to what role she would play in it.
“I would like that very much, Mother,” replied Anne. “But there are a few things you should understand first. I have become independent, largely through Elizabeth’s assistance. I will not take kindly to your directing me or demanding that I obey your edicts. I have become aware of my capabilities, and I promise I will not go beyond them.”
A slow nod was her mother’s response. “Very well. I hope you will not be upset if I express concern when I feel it?”
It was the fact that her mother had phrased it as a question that told Anne she was intent on being agreeable. “That would be fine, Mother. I do not think anyone would reject words meant in such a spirit.”
Lady Catherine nodded, her confidence seeming to have been restored. Then the smile ran away from her face when Anne made her next point.
“Another thing you should know, Mother, is that Darcy has been all but courting Elizabeth since we came to his house. Not only do I approve of this, but I am hoping he will eventually come to the point and propose to her.”
“But—” Lady Catherine composed herself and did not continue with whatever angry rant she had been about to unleash. Anne nodded to herself, relieved that her mother could restrain herself when necessary. When she spoke, there was a diffidence in her voice, though it was coupled—in an odd fashion—with a large measure of her usual imperious surety.
“If you are not to marry Darcy, then he requires a woman of society, one who will be a credit to his name and provide useful connections to increase the family’s influence. Miss Bennet . . .”
She paused and seemed to sense Anne’s refusal to hear anything against her friend.
“Miss Bennet is a good sort of girl,” continued Lady Catherine after a moment’s hesitance. “She is also a gentlewoman, which is something, I suppose. But she also possesses ties to trade and from what Mr. Collins says, a most improper family.”
“And Mr. Collins is, himself, the very model of propriety.”
A laugh actually escaped Lady Catherine’s mouth at Anne’s jibe. “I suppose you are correct.” She then became serious. “Anne, surely you understand that a marriage to Miss Bennet would make it very difficult for Darcy. She will be censured and slighted, and her acceptance will be dearly bought. Perhaps I could find another man amongst my acquaintances willing to take her on? She is not bereft of attractions. She might do for the wife of a second son, or a parson, perhaps.”
“No, Mother,” replied Anne, shaking her head. “It is Elizabeth whom Darcy chooses. He can hardly take his eyes off her, and he treats her as if she was Aphrodite in the flesh. Darcy will not be moved. He only wishes to be happy.
“And I think you underestimate Elizabeth’s capabilities.” Anne smiled, filled with mirth at the way her friend would no doubt deal with the naysayers. “Elizabeth is well able to handle any critical comments others make of her, and as my aunt and uncle have welcomed her—and I suspect they know of Darcy’s interest—I expect they will help ease her acceptance.”
“Hugh has welcomed her?”
“As has Aunt Susan, as evidenced by the invitation to the ball tomorrow night. Please, Mother—allow Darcy this happiness. She will be a good wife to him, and he is nothing less than besotted with her.”
It was quite obviously very hard for her. She did not say anything for a few moments, but Anne could see the struggle it was for her to overcome a lifetime of opinions. In some ways, Anne had it easier than her mother—she had never been much in society, had only her mother’s commentary on the importance of rank. She had never seen much value in it.
“Very well, Anne,” said Lady Catherine, though it was clear she was still unhappy. “I will say nothing to Miss Bennet or Darcy about his attentions. In the end, I doubt he would listen to me regardless.”
“True, Mother.” Anne smiled and stood. “Now, can I assume you have come with the intention of staying?”
“I have.”
“Good. Then let us see you to a room and make sure you are settled. You should also attend the ball with us tomorrow, as it will do you good to once again be among society.”
She did not say anything, but Lady Catherine followed readily as Anne departed from the room. There were no embraces, no affectionate smiles—Anne had not expected any, as her mother was simply not that sort of person. Perhaps there might be in the future. Anne hoped there would be—she would wish to have a true and loving relationship with her mother, if it was at all attainable.
The sudden arrival of Lady Catherine to his home was not at all welcome to Darcy. The lady had a propensity to make herself disagreeable to all and sundry, to insert her opinion where it was least wanted, and she held a grudge against Miss Bennet which Darcy could not tolerate. He had been at his club that morning, discussing the situation with Bingley, and they had agreed that they would remove to Hertfordshire if the Bennet sisters should be called home. Given what he knew of Mr. Bennet and what Miss Elizabeth had said, Darcy suspected it would not be long before they were.
To arrive home and discover the presence of his aunt was disagreeable, and Darcy waited for the inevitable arguments and fights which would result from her disapproval of everything which was happening in Darcy’s home. Only they did not come.
“Mother has apologized and wishes to join our par
ty, Darcy,” said Anne, as she informed him of her conversation with her mother and what had been decided.
“That is quite surprising,” said Darcy after hearing her account. “I had not thought she would capitulate so easily.”
“Nor had I,” replied Anne. “I suppose it became rather lonely at Rosings.”
But Darcy had another concern. “What of my attentions to Miss Elizabeth?”
Anne laughed, far from the response Darcy had expected. “You have finally confessed it!”
“I confessed it many days ago, to Miss Elizabeth, at least. She is the only one for whom I was concerned.”
“I suppose that is true,” replied Anne, still chuckling. “For the present, you may rest your concerns. I informed my mother of your attentions and told her I would not take kindly to any interference.”
“I cannot imagine she took that well.”
“In fact, one of the reasons she came was to ensure you made a marriage with the right kind of woman, now that I am no longer a consideration.”
Darcy thought his eyes might pop out of his head in response to that revelation, but Anne only laughed again. “I think I have managed to sway her, Cousin.”
“Has the woman no sense at all?” muttered Darcy, shaking his head. “I have spent my entire adult life endeavoring to avoid marrying an heiress.”
“And one heiress in particular,” replied Anne.
“I am glad you are so diverted by all of this,” said Darcy, feeling more than a little cross.
“I have no choice. If I was not, I might find my mother’s actions offensive. I wish to have a relationship with my mother, but I do not wish to have it on her terms.”
It was with a newfound sense of admiration for his cousin that Darcy thought of their conversation. Miss Elizabeth had helped her, it was true, but Anne had firmly taken the reins of her own life with a determination to live it as best she could, and Darcy was happy that she had.
Lady Catherine’s behavior for the rest of the day was indicative of her evident desire to please her daughter, yet her conflicting opinion of Miss Elizabeth and even more, he thought, her disapproval of any marriage between those of dissimilar ranks clearly made it difficult for her. She said very little, instead choosing to carefully watch the interactions of them all, but as she was not accustomed to hiding her thoughts, they were painfully plain for all who desired to see. When the evening had ended, the four ladies went off to their rooms for the evening, Lady Catherine also retiring to her own, while Darcy and Fitzwilliam went to his study for a nightcap. They did not stay long, however, as Darcy wished to retire himself, while Fitzwilliam took himself to the billiard room for a short time. What Darcy did not expect was to see Lady Catherine again that night.
After he walked to the upper floor where the family apartments were located, Darcy had been able to hear soft sounds of laughter emanating from behind one of the doors. Though none of their words could be understood, the clear bursts of laughter were easy to hear. Darcy smiled, once again thinking of the blessings he had received lately, when his eyes found a silent form standing in the corridor. It was Lady Catherine.
The lady was as Darcy had never seen her before—she was standing stock still, her eyes fixed on the door to Georgiana’s room, an earnest expression filling her countenance, quite a difference from her usually haughty superiority. One arm was folded across her midsection, while the elbow of the other rested on her arm, her hand rising to her chin in thought. And every time a new burst of laughter made its way through the door, her brows furrowed further, as if she was attempting to puzzle out a particularly difficult riddle.
“Step forward, Darcy,” said she, though she did not turn and look at him. “I heard you climbing the stairs.”
“I had not meant to attempt silence,” replied Darcy. “I was only surprised to see you here.”
Lady Catherine sniffed, though her usual arrogance was lacking. “This is Georgiana’s room, is it not?”
“It is. I see the ladies have gathered again to exchange confidences. Georgiana, Anne, and Miss Elizabeth have done so several times since Miss Elizabeth came to stay here. I suppose Miss Bennet’s presence made such a gathering necessary tonight.”
For a long moment Lady Catherine’s only response was a grunt. Darcy decided to allow her to speak on her own, for he could not suppose she did not have something to say. Her earnest expression informed him that her thoughts were not at all what they might normally have consisted.
“Anne tells me you have been courting Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy smiled at her mention of the fiery, beautiful woman he intended to make his wife. “Courting is perhaps not the correct word, for I have not spoken with her father or her uncle. I suppose calling on her is not quite correct either, as she is living under my roof. But if you mean it in the sense that I esteem her and wish to make her my wife, then she is not incorrect.”
Finally, Lady Catherine turned to look at him. “I will own that I cannot understand the power she possesses over you.
“Oh, she is pretty enough,” continued Lady Catherine when Darcy tried to respond, “and she is intelligent, but she is far too outspoken and displays a distressing lack of deference.”
“That is precisely what I find irresistible about her.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes found Darcy’s, and she frowned, attempting to understand his words. Darcy was more than happy to assist.
“I have had enough of deference, Lady Catherine. Had I wanted deference, I could have married my friend Bingley’s sister, for she supplied that in abundance. So could many other ladies of the ton.”
“Tell me you did not contemplate such a thing!” exclaimed Lady Catherine.
Chuckling, and shaking his head, Darcy said: “Not Miss Bingley, though I likely would not have been deterred by her position in society had I any attraction for her.”
“Do not attempt to jest about such things.”
“I assure you I do not. I care little for the strictures of society in this matter, Lady Catherine. Caroline Bingley at least has a substantial dowry, which would have appeased some, had I chosen to offer for her. Unfortunately for her ambitions, she possesses other qualities—such as her flattering deference to anything I say—which made a marriage between us impossible.
“What I am trying to inform you, Lady Catherine, is the list of qualities I desire in a wife does not begin and end with dowry and connections—in fact, they are two minor considerations on that list. Of much more importance are love, compatibility, intelligence, independence, integrity, and many other qualities which Miss Elizabeth personifies. If she does not have a large dowry, I can more than make up for that lack, and her lack of connections is refreshing, for it means that she has not been corrupted by society.”
“It seems you have given this much thought, if nothing else,” said Lady Catherine, a hint of irritability evident in her voice.
“I have, though I will own that when I first met her, I was blinded to her worth and my thoughts were much the same as yours.” Laughter once again rang out from behind Georgiana’s door, and Darcy turned and smiled at it, gesturing with one hand. “Think of the wonders Miss Elizabeth has done for your daughter. Consider also my own sister, who was quiet as a mouse when she arrived, and now she laughs heartily in Miss Elizabeth’s presence. Can you truly say this is not a worthy woman? Have we as a family not already gained from her presence?”
“I suppose when you put it that way . . . .”
“I do,” replied Darcy.
“Then you mean to pursue her, regardless of what I say.”
“You or anyone else.”
“Then I suppose I have no choice but to accept it.” A wry smile Darcy had never seen from his aunt appeared on her face. “But do not expect acceptance to come easily. I will try to remain civil to her and her family, but if I should slip, I would ask you do not hold it against me.”
Before Darcy could reply, Lady Catherine turned o
n her heel and walked to her room, the door shutting behind her. Darcy could hardly believe the conversation he had just had with her, so surreal had it been.
But he also had hope. Lady Catherine’s arrival had been a serious concern in his pursuit of Miss Elizabeth, but now it seemed that concern had been neutralized. It was a thoughtful—and grateful—Darcy that made his way to his room for the night.
Chapter XXX
The following morning, Elizabeth awoke refreshed and calm, with none of the thoughts which had so unsettled her in recent days and weeks swirling through her head. Her friendship with Anne, her growing love for Georgiana, and the presence of her dearest friend and sister after so long a separation had acted like a balm to her soul. Thoughts of Mr. Darcy and his avowed intentions persisted, but she was willing to simply allow the future to flow as it would. The lack of such weighty thoughts made her lethargic, whereas most mornings she was awake immediately and eager to meet the day.
It was a day of preparation, for three of the young ladies would be attending a ball far finer than any they had hitherto attended, and they were looking forward to it and dreading it in equal measure. As a result, most of their preparations were undertaken more carefully than they might have in other circumstances, and it showed in the radiance of their countenances, the expert and complex manner in which their maids styled their hair, and the fineness of their new ball gowns.
The one who was not to be attending, Georgiana, was more despondent about it than Elizabeth might have thought, given what she knew of the reticent and shy girl. It seemed that Georgiana had grown much these past weeks.
“I do wish I could attend,” said she, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. “Even if I was unable to dance, I am sure the spectacle would have been quite beyond anything I have ever before seen.”
Elizabeth, whose hair was being pinned up by Tilly, looked at her friend in the mirror and smiled. “In another two years, you will be coming out yourself and will be the most sought-after girl in society. You would not wish to spoil it by attending early, in a situation where you will not be able to make the most of it.”