That Mr. Darcy wrote to his sister of the ladies of Longbourn did not surprise Elizabeth, but that he had apparently done so with praise was astonishing, and her confusion was increased by the gentleman’s smiling acknowledgement of the fact. With reluctance, Miss Darcy rose and walked over to Elizabeth and Jane, eyes downcast and cheeks flushed. Elizabeth saw that Colonel Fitzwilliam eyed them with suspicion and moved to join them, but he was forestalled by Mr. Darcy’s request that he remain.
Elizabeth had no time to consider the meaning of the gesture. Miss Darcy was before them, and she focused all her attentions on the poor young lady. Taking her hand, Elizabeth asked if Miss Darcy had left from London that morning. She answered with a slight nod, and Jane declared that she must come away upstairs to refresh herself. Miss Darcy suffered to be led away from the room and down the hall to the stairs, the remaining members of the household gawking silently at them — except for Mr. Collins.
“Miss Darcy!” he cried. “Niece of my esteemed patroness! I am honored to finally make your acquaintance! Here,” he tried to put himself between Elizabeth and the heiress, “allow me to assist you!”
“Mr. Collins, please!” cried Elizabeth.
“My dear cousin,” Mr. Collins sneered in haughty superiority, “as Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s most trusted servant, it is only right that I attend Miss Darcy!”
Miss Darcy flinched. “Who . . . who are you?”
From the parlor, Mr. Darcy roared, “MR. COLLINS! Your attendance, if you please!” The man jumped as if struck, quickly made his excuses, and scampered into the room. Thus freed from the vicar’s presence, Elizabeth and Jane maneuvered the skittish Miss Darcy up the stairs.
* * *
Darcy had suffered a tolerable night thanks to laudanum, but he was out of sorts when awaked at dawn by Mr. Macmillan and Mr. Jones. Their poking and prodding did nothing to improve his disposition, and the reapplication of the splint had been excruciating. Mr. Macmillan had mercy on his patient, and he had just administered a light draught of laudanum when Darcy was assaulted by his relations.
Confusion gave way to joy, which quickly turned to disquiet. Darcy doted on Georgiana and loved Fitzwilliam like a brother, but his delight in being in their agreeable presence was quickly overcome by alarm that his sister was in the same neighborhood that now housed Wickham. Concern for the former and disgust for the latter was augmented by wonder: How did Georgiana learn of his misfortune? Unless Miss Bennet sent his letter by express — and she gave no such indication — someone else had written to London. Who that could be, Darcy had no idea.
Darcy set that issue aside for the moment. His first thought was to protect Georgiana. Glancing over and beholding the kind faces of Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth gave him an excuse to speak to Fitzwilliam alone without Georgiana overhearing. The two ladies seemed agreeable to attending his sister, but Darcy was embarrassed by Georgiana’s innocent question, “Are these the kind ladies you wrote of from Netherfield?”
He was sure his pale skin colored as he whispered, “Yes, they are. They have impressed me with their goodness. Go with them, and I shall see you soon.”
He knew that Georgiana’s innate reserve and shyness would give most people the wrong impression — that she was proud and above her company — but he trusted that the eldest Bennet ladies had better insight. He hid a smile as Miss Elizabeth took his sister in hand. The sight was much as he had dreamt lately — Miss Elizabeth ensconced as Mrs. Darcy at Pemberley and as a loving sister to sweet Georgiana.
However, his contentment was interrupted by Mr. Collins’s presumptuous conduct. Darcy had shouted for the vicar, the laudanum having a liberating effect on his inhibitions. He did not want the man anywhere near him, but he had to get him away from Georgiana. Once the tall, heavy man entered the room, Darcy began directly.
“You overstep yourself, sir. I fancy myself owning tolerable forbearance, but I must warn you that I have an unforgiving temper. Take care that you never earn my displeasure, or you will suffer for it.”
“I . . . I thank you, sir, for your generous warning!” came the groveling reply. “I shall endeavor to remember it if you would be so kind as to tell me how I have offended you.”
Did the man have no wit at all? “It was my wish that Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth attend my sister. Had I any other intentions, rest assured I would have voiced them. Do not flatter yourself that you know my mind.”
“Of course, of course!” Mr. Collins cried with a bow. “I would never dream of such a thing, noble nephew of my benefactor. But you could not have known I was without. No, you could not. Therefore, as a more suitable companion for your fair sister — ”
“Mr. Collins, let me assure you that I am never unaware of your presence!” The youngest Bennet girls giggled, and even Mr. Bennet cracked a smile. “As for who is a suitable companion for my sister, I believe that I shall be the judge of that. You are dismissed. I wish to have a private conversation with my cousin.” Darcy glanced at Mr. Bennet as Mr. Collins fled. “Mr. Bennet, if you would kindly excuse me.”
With an insolent air, Mr. Bennet nodded his head and withdrew, followed by his wife and daughters, the men of medicine, and Bartholomew. Once the door closed, Darcy rounded on Colonel Fitzwilliam. “What the devil are you doing here, Fitz?”
Darcy’s demand earned an amused chuckle from his cousin. “Good to see you, too, Cuz. How did you hurt your leg?”
“I fell off a horse. Do not change the subject. What are you doing here? Why did you bring Georgiana? You must take her back to London this instant!”
“Did that fall addle your brain, Darcy? We just got here. I am certainly not going directly back to Town, and neither is Georgie. The weather is beastly and the roads are treacherous. If Bingley’s express had not been so dire, I think we would have waited a few days.”
“Bingley!” Darcy groaned. “I should have known!”
“Perhaps I might have misunderstood Bingley’s message, but the letter was so full of blots, I could only make out six words in ten. Georgiana was beside herself, and I was concerned, too.”
“Well, now you see I am well attended, so you can take Georgiana back to London.”
“Did you hear a word I said? The roads are too dangerous — ”
“Wickham is here.”
Fitzwilliam froze. “What? Wickham is here? In Hertfordshire?”
“Yes, he is in Meryton as we speak. He has joined the ——shire militia.”
“Good God! Why did you not tell me? We cannot let him come anywhere near Georgiana!”
Darcy sighed. “Exactly my point. That is why you and Georgie must leave immediately.”
Fitzwilliam began to pace about the room. “Blast! I was not exaggerating the state of the roads, Darce. They are bad and getting worse by the moment. Only a fool would be out there now.”
“I know,” Darcy said with a meaningful look at the colonel.
He did not miss Darcy’s meaning. “Excuse us for caring, you ungrateful wretch!”
“Pardon my foul humor, Fitz, but you see my concerns.”
“I do. But what are we to do?”
Darcy made to answer him, but there was a new commotion at the door.
“Good God!” the colonel cried. “What is she doing here?”
* * *
Elizabeth and Jane watched as Miss Darcy washed her face and repaired her appearance. She reluctantly agreed to come downstairs and take tea, and soon the heiress was seated in the Longbourn sitting room opposite the parlor serving as Mr. Darcy’s sickroom. Mrs. Hill brought refreshments from the dining room for Miss Darcy’s pleasure, but she refused anything but a cup of tea — cream, no sugar. The rest of the Bennet family attended her, even Mr. Bennet, but Mr. Collins stood preoccupied near the window and glanced out on occasion.
Elizabeth ignored the strange, tall man. She instead endeavored to engage Miss Darcy in conversation and found it to be challenging. She could tell it was not pride that stilled the young lady’s ton
gue but an almost crippling case of shyness. She was not as Mr. Wickham described. Normally, Elizabeth would have wondered about that discrepancy, but she saw that the reserved and frightened girl needed immediate comforting and engaged all her considerable powers toward that end, setting other thoughts aside.
Lydia and Kitty quickly grew bored with the company and spent their time whispering and giggling while Mary simply stared — none of which seemed to make Miss Darcy any more at ease with her situation. Finally, Mrs. Bennet had her share of the conversation.
“Miss Darcy, what a lovely dress you are wearing! It cost a pretty penny, I should think. Do you not think so, Lydia? Yes, yes, very pretty. You must patronize the most expensive dress shops in London, I am sure of it! Pray, what did it cost?”
Miss Darcy was speechless. As for Elizabeth, she was happy one could not die of mortification, for if she could, her family would certainly be measuring her for her coffin at that moment.
“Miss Darcy,” cried Jane, “I hope your trip here was not too taxing. The roads must have been in quite a state.”
“They were poor,” Miss Darcy allowed.
Elizabeth felt a need to take the girl’s hand. “That you came at all shows a lovely devotion to your brother.”
Miss Darcy looked wide-eyed. “He is all I have left in the world! If something should happen to him — ”
“Nothing shall,” Jane reassured her. “He is receiving the best of care.”
“Oh, Miss Darcy, Jane is right,” cried Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Macmillan seems a very clever sort of man. He says he will save the leg, and even if he cannot, why a gentleman of Mr. Darcy’s station would be able to get by very well with only one, with all the servants at his disposal.”
“Mother!” Elizabeth begged to little avail.
“I only speak the truth,” her mother claimed. “I am sure in any case that Mr. Darcy has well provided for his sister.” She shot a glance at Mr. Collins’s back. “She shall never have to worry about starving in the hedgerows!”
Elizabeth was afraid Miss Darcy was going to cry and tried mightily to think of something to say that would repair matters. It was at that moment that Mr. Collins began to do the most extraordinary thing: He started to hop about, clapping his hands.
“She is here! She is here! What joy!” With that, he fled the room. The other inhabitants were amazed at the exhibition they had just witnessed.
A dry-eyed Miss Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “Is your cousin always this . . . demonstrative?”
The front door was flung open. “Where is my nephew?” It was the voice of a woman of a certain age not used to being disappointed.
Miss Darcy paled. “Good God, what is she doing here?”
Chapter 5
ELIZABETH SAW THAT MISS Darcy was trembling anew, caused undoubtedly by the loud outcry of their intruder. She could do no less than offer comfort.
“Miss Darcy, I have no idea who that is. Should we investigate?” Elizabeth turned to Mr. Bennet. “Father, what is happening?” The voices in the hall grew in intensity as the mystery woman and Mr. Collins talked over one another.
Miss Darcy’s grip on Elizabeth’s hand was almost painful. “She must not know I am here! Please!”
The young lady was truly alarmed, and Elizabeth wondered whether there was danger to them all. Meanwhile, the others had left the room to see the source of the commotion, and after gaining Jane’s assurance that she would remain with the distressed girl, Elizabeth joined her family.
In the hall was a tall, large, older woman with strongly marked features that might once have been considered beautiful. Her traveling cloak was soaked through, imparting a bedraggled appearance. Her air was not conciliatory, nor was her manner of receiving them such as to make her hosts forget their inferior rank.
“This is a very small park, and your portico is quite insufficient for inclement weather! It is beyond my understanding how my nephew found himself in such a place!” She glared at Mr. Bennet. “You are the owner of this hovel, I suppose.”
Mr. Collins stood next to the woman, a sickly superior smile pasted on his ill features. “My lady, this is my cousin, Mr. Bennet, the current owner of Longbourn.” He turned to the stately matron and bowed. “I have the great honor to present Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park, Hunsford, Kent!”
So this was Lady Catherine! In her countenance and deportment, Elizabeth found some resemblance of Mr. Darcy. But the lady’s speech was in tone so authoritative in comparison to her nephew as to make his proud discourse modest. Her marked self-importance brought Mr. Wickham immediately to Elizabeth’s mind. From observation, she believed Lady Catherine to be exactly what he had represented. Mr. Wickham may have been wrong about Miss Darcy, but in this, he had been accurate.
“Enough of this prittle-prattle!” the good lady thundered. “You will take me to my nephew this instant!”
The clergyman scampered to do her bidding, and the door to the parlor was thrown open unceremoniously. Lady Catherine marched in without hesitation and cried out, “Darcy! What is the meaning of this? How came you to be housed in such degrading circumstances?”
The Bennet family stood without but could see into the room. Mr. Darcy was half-sitting up in bed. Colonel Fitzwilliam was beside him, the bed between him and Lady Catherine. Mr. Darcy was not sanguine; annoyance marked his features.
“Aunt Catherine,” said Mr. Darcy with restrained emotion, “I am pleased to see you well. Tell me, how came you to journey to this place?”
Mr. Collins preened. “While humility is the first virtue of a clergyman, I am forced by honesty to report that I was the instrument by which my honored patroness was informed of your calamity.”
Mr. Darcy whipped upon the man. “Are you saying you wrote to Rosings?”
“I did, by express,” he admitted proudly. “No expense is too excessive in the service of my mistress!”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “You take an eager interest in my concerns, sir.”
Mr. Collins nodded his head. “I live to serve the Family de Bourgh.”
“By thunder, you do not serve mine!” cried Mr. Darcy. “How dare you? How dare you interfere in matters that should be of no interest to you?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam laid a hand on Mr. Darcy’s shoulder. “Easy, Darcy.”
“By God, no!” Mr. Darcy railed onward. “Collins, I told you expressly that my business was not yours, yet you still chose to insinuate yourself into my concerns! You are treading a dangerous path, you sanctimonious fool, for I own an unforgiving temper, and your choice of profession shall not protect you from my wrath should you continue to anger me! As it is, if you do not get out of my sight in the next thirty seconds, I shall use whatever powers I have, either just or ill — including using my uncle, the bishop — to ruin you! GET OUT OF MY ROOM! NOW!”
Mr. Collins was deathly white, but whether it was from Mr. Darcy’s threats or Lady Catherine’s silence, Elizabeth could not tell. In a moment, the tall man was retreating up the stairs.
Lady Catherine huffed. “Darcy, if you are through berating my parson, get out of that bed. We are leaving for Rosings immediately.”
“What?” cried Mr. Macmillan, who had by that time reentered the room. “Mr. Darcy cannot leave, madam.”
“Who is this person?” Lady Catherine sneered.
“That gentleman is my physician, Aunt, and he is quite right,” Mr. Darcy declared. “I am not well enough to leave. I am grateful for the hospitality from this fine, respectable family.”
Lady Catherine was not swayed by this statement. “Nonsense! Hurry yourself along, or have your man gather assistance. Anne is waiting in the carriage.”
“What?” cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. “You brought Anne here — to Hertfordshire in the rain in November?”
“Good God, madam, you have lost your mind,” breathed Mr. Darcy. “Fitz — quickly!”
Colonel Fitzwilliam was already moving to the doorway, a quickness of action that surprised Elizabeth, eve
n though she knew his profession. “Say no more, Darce! Bartholomew, attend me!” The two forced their way through the crowd and out the front door.
“There is no need for this, Darcy. We shall be on our way once you are in the carriage,” Lady Catherine protested loudly.
“I am not leaving, and there is an end to it.”
The front door opened again, and Elizabeth saw Colonel Fitzwilliam and Bartholomew half-carry a small, well-bundled person between them, rain droplets puddling on Mrs. Bennet’s fine floors.
“Darcy, she is chilled to the bone!” cried the colonel. To Mrs. Bennet, he demanded, “Where is a fire?”
Elizabeth’s mother jumped at the authority in the man’s voice. “Here, in the sitting room. Quickly, sir. Oh, my poor nerves!”
She led the trio into the room they had lately vacated. The rest were undecided; curiosity over the new arrival battled with the attraction of the epic clash occurring in the parlor, for Mr. Darcy and Mr. Macmillan were as insistent in their demands for Miss de Bourgh’s relief as Lady Catherine was outraged over their presumptuous interference. Finally, better manners won out, and the remainder of the Bennet family removed to the sitting room. Elizabeth had to drag a protesting Lydia by the arm.
The visitor was established in a chair close to the hearth. Miss de Bourgh, for it could be no other person, was dressed in heavy fabrics of high quality but poor fashion. The sleeves had not been seen in Hertfordshire society for many a year. The young lady herself was not at all the way Elizabeth imagined Mr. Darcy’s intended. With his pride and hauteur, surely the master of Pemberley would seek out only the handsomest, most refined creature of the ton.
It was the work of a moment’s attention to prove that Miss de Bourgh was nothing of the sort. Elizabeth was astonished at her being so thin and small. There was neither in figure nor face any likeness between her and her mother. Miss De Bourgh was pale and sickly. Her features, though not plain, were insignificant. She spoke very little, if at all, and when she did, it was in a light, almost incomprehensible whine.
Mr. Darcy Came to Dinner Page 6