This was the object of Mr. Darcy’s esteem? This ill-looking, ill-acting wallflower? It was an astounding revelation that a man as exacting and penetrating an observer of his fellow man as Mr. Darcy undoubtedly was — a gentleman of great pride, presence, and intellect — would choose as the companion of his future life a woman as small, sickly, and insipid as his cousin.
But perhaps that was the answer to the mystery. Mr. Darcy was marrying for money and family like countless others of his station. It was a disappointment.
It was in Elizabeth’s character to make such a pitiful creature comfortable. Already, Miss Darcy, who had not fled upstairs, and Jane had moved to talk to the heiress. Elizabeth saw she must have her share in the conversation, for the rest of her family gawked at the young lady as if she were a circus creature on display.
“Miss de Bourgh, may I pour you a cup of tea?” The lady responded to Elizabeth with only a shake of the head.
“Anne,” said Miss Darcy, with some animation, “you must take something to warm you. Please have some tea” — the girl paused — “or perhaps something else?”
The girl’s glassy eyes looked about the room. “Perhaps some sherry?” she rasped.
Elizabeth saw Colonel Fitzwilliam roll his eyes resignedly before turning to Mr. Bennet. “Might I trouble you for a glass of sherry, sir?” The glass was soon poured, and the girl sipped it greedily. The colonel sighed and requested that Miss de Bourgh show some moderation. Her response was to finish the drink and hold out the glass, a silent request for a refill. The second glass went down as quickly as the first. Miss de Bourgh decided to savor her third glass, but was no more talkative with her audience. Elizabeth spoke instead to her cousin.
“You seem very concerned over your cousin’s comfort, Colonel. I hope she is not ill.”
“Anne has been ill most of her life, Miss Elizabeth,” he said. “She should not be out in such weather.”
“I think it very romantic,” cried Kitty.
“Romantic?” the colonel cried in response. “To chance her health for no reason? That is a strange description of romance, young lady.”
Kitty was silenced, but Lydia was not. “She came to see her lover! What could be more romantic, even if he is only Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth did not think Lydia could be so crude, but her censure died on her lips as she beheld the reaction from the others.
Miss de Bourgh broke out in gales of laughter.
Miss Darcy was startled. “What are you talking about? Fitz, what is she talking about? Brother has not given in to Aunt Catherine’s demands, has he?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam covered his eyes with a hand. “Oh, not that nonsense again!”
“Lydia! Be quiet!” Jane scolded.
“It is true!” Lydia stood firm. “Mr. Wickham said so!”
“Mr. Wickham?” Miss Darcy gasped.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was livid. “Deuce take him! What else has that scoundrel said?”
Miss Darcy was trembling again. “How do you know Mr. Wickham? What . . . what did he say?”
“Why, he is the most agreeable man in the militia, and he is our friend even if you are not!” Lydia crowed.
Miss Darcy gasped back a sob, rose to her feet, and dashed from the room with Jane in pursuit. Elizabeth berated Lydia for her words, but her sister only replied, “What did I say? It is only the truth!”
“Mr. Bennet!” cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Is it the custom of the Bennet family to insult their visitors?”
A red-faced Mr. Bennet stepped forward and broke his silence. “No, it is not. Lydia, to your room this instant!”
Lydia obeyed at once, crying her innocence as she fled. Kitty made to follow, but she was forestalled by a glare from her father. Mrs. Bennet, white-faced, sat back on the settee, fanning herself and mumbling something about her nerves. Meanwhile, neither Mary nor Miss de Bourgh said a word.
“I deeply apologize for this exhibition, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Mr. Bennet said with sincerity. The colonel was only slightly mollified.
“Miss Darcy is my ward as well as my cousin, and as such, her protection is my duty and pleasure. I will stand for no ill treatment of her from anyone. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
The colonel looked at the open doorway. “I should go to her.”
“I am sure that my sister Jane is with her, and there is no kinder, gentler creature in the world. She will comfort her, if anyone can.” Elizabeth paused. “If I may say so, you are in no state to see her — understandably, of course.”
The gentleman was pacified. “Perhaps a few minutes’ wait would be well.”
“We are so sorry,” cried Kitty, “but what did we do to upset her? Mr. Wickham said — ”
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s anger was reignited. “Wickham? You should have more wits than to believe anything Wickham says!”
“But . . . (cough) . . . but he is in the militia!”
The colonel moved closer to Kitty. “So, a red coat means honorable behavior? Miss Catherine, I have been a solider for fifteen years, and I have seen enough rogues and scoundrels in uniform to fill all of Meryton! Let me tell you what sort of man your Mr. Wickham is.” To the entire room, he said, “He was the son of the late steward for my uncle, Mr. Darcy, may God rest his soul, and young Wickham was raised at that fine family’s expense . . . ”
* * *
Darcy, half-intoxicated by the light dose of laudanum, was far more expressive than usual with his difficult Aunt Catherine. She was known to her family as stubborn and willful at the best of times, and that she had dashed from Kent to Hertfordshire in such inclement weather and forced Anne to accompany her was pure madness. Darcy, contrary to his usual manner, was both disinclined and powerless to refrain from telling her so in forthright terms.
“It is past understanding,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “how a woman who boasts of both motherly affection and superior intelligence could convince herself of the wisdom of bundling up her feeble daughter in a small coach and traveling over fifty miles in rain and mud with the sole object of forcing her nephew, suffering from a broken leg, to journey to Kent with her in opposition to both medical science and common sense. I had thought you foolish before, but this is beyond everything!”
Lady Catherine stared at Darcy in open-mouthed shock. “How dare you! I am not accustomed to such language as this. This is not to be borne! Immediately upon receiving Mr. Collins’s express, I resolved to set off for this place and, out of the affection and goodness of my heart, to transport you to lodging more suitable to your station!”
Darcy would have none of it. “Even at the risk of my leg or life? How good of you, Aunt. And why bring Anne? Was it to ‘accidentally’ leave us alone somewhere along the road to Rosings for a sufficient length of time for Anne to be considered compromised? Out with it, woman!”
“Darcy! Honor, decorum, prudence — yea, even interest — commands that it is your family that cares for you and not some strangers in the wilderness. Yes, interest — for do not expect to be ignored by society if you willfully act against the inclinations of all. You will be censured, slighted, and despised by everyone connected with you.”
“Madam,” said Mr. Macmillan, “I believe you are overstating the case.”
Darcy waved his hand in dismissal. “For the last time, Aunt, I am not leaving. Mr. Macmillan — ”
“Is no one!” the grand dame declared. “My physician, Sir Anthony Carter, will attend you!”
“Carter!” cried Mr. Macmillan. “Tell me you have not employed that fraud! He is a menace!”
“He is the son of the Earl of — ”
Mr. Macmillan was outraged. “The man is a butcher! I am not one to disparage my colleagues — but Carter! No amount of quackery is beneath him. There is not a respectable physician in all of London who will as much as speak to him!”
“They are jealous of his elevated station — ”
“They are disgusted with his
dangerous foolishness.” To Darcy, Mr. Macmillan said, “If he is Miss de Bourgh’s physician, I fear for her.”
“Preposterous! There is nothing wrong with a little sherry in the evening! It improves Anne’s stomach and calms her unsettled feelings of rejection by you, Darcy!”
Darcy laughed. “Aunt Catherine, Anne is half in her cups most evenings! Do you not see this?”
“Sir Anthony is aware of the ill effects — ”
Mr. Macmillan proclaimed, “Sir Anthony Carter is a charlatan! Mr. Darcy, if I could have just five minutes with your cousin — ”
Lady Catherine drew herself to full height. “You shall never touch my daughter, you cretin!” To her nephew she said, “Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?”
“No, there is not. By the way, allow me to be perfectly clear. I am not engaged to Anne, I never have been, and I have not the slightest intention of becoming so. I am my own master, and there is nothing in this world that can force me to become your son.” He raised his hand and stopped her outraged protests. “I doubt any agreement was ever made with my mother, madam, but even if there was, it can have no standing with me. So please stop spreading your expectations as if they were settled facts. You embarrass me and demean yourself.”
“Obstinate, headstrong boy! I am ashamed of you! Is this your gratitude for my attentions to you? Is nothing due to me, almost your closest relation, on that score? I am determined to carry my purpose. I will not be dissuaded from it. I am not used to submitting to any person’s whims; I am not in the habit of brooking disappointment.”
Darcy yawned. “That will make your ladyship’s situation at present more pitiable, but it will have no effect on me.”
Lady Catherine was astonished. “You refuse, then, to oblige me! You refuse to obey the claims of duty, honor, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin yourself — and Georgiana too — in the opinion of all your family and make your name the contempt of the world!”
“Neither duty, nor honor, nor gratitude,” replied Darcy, “has any possible claim on me in the present instance. No principle of any of those obligations would be violated by my refusal to marry Anne. And with regard to the resentment of my family or the indignation of the world, I could not care less.”
Lady Catherine’s mouth flapped open. “And this is your true opinion of me and your family! This is your final resolve! Very well, I shall now know how to act. I hoped to find you reasonable, but depend upon it, I will carry my point. Your family will disown you!”
“That is a heavy misfortune,” replied Darcy sarcastically, “but I find that Pemberley has such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to my ownership of it that I can, upon the whole, have no cause to repine.”
Lady Catherine sniffed and moved to the door when, turning hastily round, she added, “I take no leave of you, Darcy. You deserve no such attention. I am most seriously displeased!” With that she quit the room.
Darcy sighed and turned to his shocked physician and valet. “Well, that was a long time coming. Might I get a bite to eat? I am famished.”
* * *
Colonel Fitzwilliam finished his story. “And Darcy sent him away after his outrageous request for the living, informing Wickham that he must be satisfied with the four thousand he had already wasted.” He glanced at the door. “So, I hope you all understand that Wickham is not a man to be trusted with the truth.”
Elizabeth’s mind was in a whirl. Mr. Darcy exonerated? Mr. Wickham so wicked? Was it to be believed? She struggled with the concept and wondered whether she should voice her doubts when Kitty spoke for her.
“But . . . (cough) . . . but Mr. Wickham seemed so handsome — I mean, so reasonable!”
“A handsome face often hides a false tongue, for how else can the man be successful?” The colonel eyed Mr. Bennet. “My cousin and I have proofs of this, sir.”
Mr. Bennet seemed half-amused and waved him off. “It will not be necessary, my good Colonel. I believe you. There is but such a quantity of merit between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham to make only one good sort of man. For my part, I am now inclined to believe Mr. Darcy, but” — he turned to his daughter — “you shall do as you choose, Kitty.”
Elizabeth noted that Miss de Bourgh seemed oddly untouched by the colonel’s story. She attributed that to her already being aware of it. If that was so, then there could be no doubt Mr. Wickham had lied. Elizabeth was close enough to lean in and take the girl’s free hand. “It must be a relief to you to see how well-cared for Mr. Darcy is.”
Miss de Bourgh gave her a strange, unfocused look. “It is? I suppose it should be.” She took a sip of her sherry, missing Elizabeth’s incredulous expression. Elizabeth glanced at the colonel, but his shrug gave her no insight into the bizarre girl.
“I know it is not public yet,” offered Mrs. Bennet, “but I hope Mr. Darcy’s misfortune does not put off a rather important day.”
Elizabeth knew her mother should not have mentioned the betrothal, but instead of any normal emotion, Miss de Bourgh looked confused.
“Important day? What are you talking about?”
“Mrs. Bennet — ” Colonel Fitzwilliam began before Mrs. Bennet cut him off.
“You know, the big day!” She added a wink for good measure.
Confusion was still painted on the girl’s face, so Mary spoke up. “Your wedding, Miss de Bourgh.”
“What?” The girl almost dropped her glass. “Fitz, am I getting married? To whom? Has Mother done something? I do not want to get married!”
At that moment, Lady Catherine de Bourgh stormed into the sitting room. “Anne, we are leaving immediately! I shall not stay another moment in this place!”
The girl got unsteadily to her feet, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was forced to assist her. “Mother, am I getting married? They all say I am.”
“Apparently not, for your cousin, whose name I shall not utter, has abandoned his duty to his family! Do not speak his name again, for he is dead to us! Fitzwilliam, attend us!”
“But, Mother,” said Miss de Bourgh, “how can we call him Fitzwilliam if we cannot say the name Fitzwilliam? Should we not call him Richard?”
“Anne, enough! Let us leave.” The grand lady took no leave of the Bennets, but instead turned on her heel and marched from the room, expecting the colonel and her daughter to follow. They did, with Miss de Bourgh giving the others a small wave. The Bennets remained seated, sharing glances of confusion and wonder until they heard the front door open and close.
“Well,” said Mr. Bennet, “that was interesting!”
The next minute, Colonel Fitzwilliam reentered the room, but he was not alone.
“Good morning, everyone,” said a cheerful Charles Bingley, still in his dripping overcoat. “I hope I find all of you well.” He turned to the colonel. “Colonel Fitzwilliam and I are acquainted, but who was in the grand carriage that just left?”
“That was Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” said Mr. Bennet as he eyed the pool of water growing at Mr. Bingley’s feet. “Would you like to remove your coat, sir?”
“Oh! Forgive me!” He quickly removed the sodden garment and handed it to the footman who had followed in his wake. “My steward informed me of a carriage heading for Longbourn, and I rushed to see whether anything untoward had happened to my friend. I am happy you made good time, Colonel. Is Miss Darcy with you?”
“She is, Bingley, a . . . umm . . . bit indisposed. She is upstairs resting.”
“Jane attends her,” added Elizabeth.
Bingley smiled. “Oh, well, she is in the best of hands, then. Miss Bennet is an angel!”
“As for Darcy,” said the colonel, “from what I have seen, he is as well as can be expected.”
“BINGLEY!” called Mr. Darcy from the parlor. “IS THAT YOU?”
“There is certainly nothing wrong with his voice,” said Mr. Bennet.
“Coming, Darcy!” Mr. Bingley called out before turning to the others. “If you would please excuse me, I must at
tend my friend.”
“I had best come with you,” said the colonel with a wink for the Bennets. As they made for the door, they were intercepted by Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet. Jane announced that Miss Darcy was recovered from her mortification, and once they saw that Lady Catherine had departed, decided to join the others. After sharing greetings, Miss Darcy kindly accepted apologies from the Bennets and went with the two gentlemen to see Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Bennet was already at the door of his book room. “I have had all the excitement I can stand for one morning. I do not wish to be disturbed until tea.” With that, he closed his door firmly.
The others dispersed to attend to their usual activities, leaving Elizabeth in a state of confusion.
* * *
“You are leaving,” Darcy commanded in a firm voice.
His sister’s was soft but no less decided. “No, I will not.”
“Georgiana, I am telling you to go back to London.”
“And I am telling you I shall not. I will not abandon you while you are forced to remain here.”
Darcy turned to his cousin. “Well, are you going to say anything?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam crossed his arms. “No, except that I agree with her. It makes no sense to send her away. Better to send for Mrs. Annesley when the weather clears.”
“You know why I want her back in Town.”
“She already knows about Wickham, Darcy.”
Georgiana stood and crossed her arms as well. “Yes, I know he is here, but I am done hiding from him and my shame. I shall face the world like a Darcy — like you, Brother.”
Darcy thought this was a bad time for Georgiana’s spirits to recover from the near-disaster at Ramsgate, but he raised another objection. “I do not want my sister in an inn without my protection.”
“Thank you for your faith in me, Darcy,” cried the colonel with some heat.
“I am sorry. I did not mean any slight against you, but Georgiana is my responsibility. I will not rest quietly if she is in a public house outside of my eye.”
“Never fear,” chimed in Mr. Bingley. “She and the colonel may stay at Netherfield. We have room aplenty!”
Mr. Darcy Came to Dinner Page 7