by Kelly Miller
With a familiar glimmer in her eyes, Elizabeth directed a sardonic smile at him as she spoke. “I am so glad you approve, Lady Catherine.”
“That is not to say you should not have another boy child as soon as may be. A man like Darcy cannot have too many sons.”
***
As Darcy was being dressed for dinner, he ruminated on the ramifications of his aunt’s surprise visit. She could not have chosen a worse time to appear! Was it not bad enough for him to have to deal with Graham? Now it appeared his aunt and her friend would be here for Elizabeth’s birthday celebration. Lady Catherine must be one of the last people his wife would wish to have at her birthday table. No matter—he would not permit his aunt or anyone else to ruin this for her.
Dismissing Winston, he knocked upon the door to his wife’s room and entered at her call. In the few minutes it took for Gibbs, her abigail, to finish arranging Elizabeth’s hair, he sat in quiet admiration of the artful style selected for the evening. At the maid’s exit, he took his wife by the hand and led her to a sofa. He retained her hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “I am sorry for my aunt’s sudden appearance.”
Drawing in a deep breath, she raised his eyes to his, giving him a smile. “She is your aunt. You have no need to apologize.” She lowered her gaze, her tone nonchalant. “Lady Catherine claims she wrote to you and told you of her plans to visit.”
“I never received a letter from her.”
Her shoulders lowered, and she relaxed against the back of the sofa. “I thought so.”
His brow contorted at her response. His dear wife could have no reason to think he would hide tidings as momentous as an imminent visit from Lady Catherine from her, but his aunt’s words must have given her doubt.
“I suspect your aunt does not truly want to reconcile with us or, at least, not with me. I wonder at her reason for bringing Lady Rebecca here. It seems her purpose was to throw the woman at you.”
“Throw her at me? Is that not an exaggeration?”
She groaned. “You had to have noticed how obvious Lady Rebecca was in her demeanour with you. Anyone can see she hopes to draw you into an affair.”
He stared at her for a moment; his lips formed a smile.
Blowing out her breath through pursed lips, she pulled her hand from his and stood, setting her hands on her hips. “Whatever are you smiling at?”
Darcy stood to face her. “You. You are jealous.” He was being less than gallant, but how could he resist such a singular opportunity to tease her? Elizabeth had never acted in a possessive or jealous way towards him before.
Her eyes flared; she spun on her heel and walked to the window. Her heated, tremulous voice revealed an unexpected depth of emotion. “I am not! But do tell me, how I should feel when your aunt pushes a beautiful, titled lady at you who is more than willing to flirt with you and foist her chest in your face!”
This had upset her! Within two long strides, he was at his wife’s side. He took her hand and lifted it to bestow a kiss. “You know you are the only woman for me.” The rise and fall of her chest abated as her breathing began to slow. When she spoke, he had to strain to hear her.
“I know—and yet…”
He inched closer. “And yet?”
“It seems to me that your aunt set out to find a lady who looks similar to me but is superior in every way.”
“Superior? Whatever do you mean?”
With a rushed breath, she turned to face him. “Fitzwilliam, it is easy to see why your aunt brought her here. Lady Rebecca bears a resemblance to me, but she is prettier; she has perfect alabaster skin, gorgeous, expertly styled dark hair, and a tall, willowy figure. Compared to her, I am plain, tanned, cursed with an unruly mane, and short!”
He lowered his head, cursing himself for his earlier taunting speech. How could Elizabeth feel inferior to Lady Rebecca or anyone else? How could she doubt that she was his perfect match in every possible way? Raising his gaze to her, he stroked her cheek with a loving tenderness. “You could not be more wrong in your assessment. Were I possessed of such a power, I would not change one aspect of your appearance. Of course, it is true you are rather petite and your exquisite hair has curls that delight in escaping the confines of your bonnets, but you are quite the opposite of plain. You are my beautiful Elizabeth with your fine, expressive eyes, your adorable, perfect nose, and your smile that lights the darkest of days. Your skin is tanned because you adore the outdoors, and that is one of the things I love about you. I am captivated by your kindness and your keen, inquisitive mind. As for your figure, I am obsessed with every inch of it. If we did not have guests downstairs waiting to have dinner with us, I would be pleased to show you at present how much I love your body.”
She threw her arms around him and spoke against his neck. “I needed to hear that. I love you so much.”
His hand stroked her back as he held her. “No more than I love you.”
Chapter 4: A Heated Argument
After her talk with Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth’s spirits soared. Her confident air did not suffer a bit at the sight of Lady Rebecca, who appeared more beautiful than ever in a bewitching dinner gown of fine silk with a dark net overlay—the effect of which gave prominence to the lady’s perfect figure. Nor did she blink an eye when Fitzwilliam escorted the woman in to dinner in the small dining room while she was escorted with Lady Catherine by Graham; it was to be expected.
Not until they were well into the second course did the focused, relentless actions of the other two ladies in the furtherance of their machination begin to chip away at her happy mood. The women, seated on either side of her husband, manifested a united goal: that of impressing her husband with the many attributes of Lady Rebecca.
Lady Catherine spoke at length, primarily to Fitzwilliam but with occasional glances to Elizabeth, of her approval and admiration for her new friend. She raved about the impressive ancestors in Lady Rebecca’s family, her education at an exclusive school for ladies, and her long list of accomplishments. She encouraged her friend to expound on her love of music and her extensive training on several instruments, including the pianoforte and harp.
In her struggle to reclaim the contentment she had enjoyed a mere thirty minutes earlier, Elizabeth forced herself to smile, drawing upon her self-proclaimed stubbornness. She could not bear to be intimidated at the will of others; at least, she would not allow others to view her unease.
Seated to her left, Graham spoke little during the meal. His sole occupation was consuming the enormous portion of food on his plate. How that man loved to eat! By now, the servants, aware of his eating habits, ensured his end of the table was well stocked with ample portions of every dish. His few comments were to compliment the excellence of the meal.
Towards the end of dinner, Lady Catherine concentrated on the subject of Lady Rebecca’s need to learn the specifics of running an estate, naming a number of subjects about which Fitzwilliam ought to familiarize the lady. She concluded her diatribe with the suggestion that he show Pemberley’s orangery and library to Lady Rebecca after dinner, adding that a separation of sexes in such a small party was unnecessary. The gentlemen could defer having their brandy or port until they all met again in the drawing room.
Her husband’s eyes fell upon her. “Graham has not yet seen those rooms, and I am sure he would like to join us. We shall all go after dinner.”
Lady Catherine’s high-pitched voice resounded in the room like a screech. “You cannot suppose I should appreciate so much walking. No, Elizabeth and I shall have tea in the drawing room. There are matters I should like to discuss with her.”
Taking a heaving breath, Fitzwilliam opened his mouth—no doubt to voice a protest.
Elizabeth’s rushed words forestalled him. “Of course. I should be pleased to remain and talk with you.” She met her husband’s raised eyebrows with
a slight shrug. His aunt wished to speak to her alone; she would hear what the woman had to say.
Graham raised his head from his plate of food in a sidelong glance at her. He used an undertone. “I am torn. I cannot decide which of you most needs my protection, but I confess I should rather watch over you.”
His jest brought a smile to her face, but it was short-lived as her eyes flitted to their lovely, dark-haired guest. In truth, based on the lascivious way Lady Rebecca gawked at Fitzwilliam, he was the one most apt to need a saviour.
As it happened, Lady Catherine insisted that Graham accompany Fitzwilliam and Lady Rebecca while she and Elizabeth removed to the drawing room. They sat in the quiet room sipping on tea until the older lady shattered the silence in a tone redolent of disdain. “I suppose you must feel exceedingly proud of yourself.”
Elizabeth blinked at her. This was a wretched beginning! “Proud? Why would you think me proud?”
Her ladyship’s teacup landed on the saucer with a clang. “Do not be coy with me! You cannot be ignorant of my meaning. In a shocking show of cunning and deceitfulness you took advantage of my extraordinary condescension and stole my daughter’s intended out from under my nose!”
She pursed her lips and took a measured breath. Not this again—her husband and his cousin Anne were never engaged! “You are referring to April of 1812 when I stayed with my cousin and friend at Hunsford Parsonage. Despite what you may think, I promise you that I had no design whatsoever with regard to Fitzwilliam at that time. To own the truth, I did not even like him then.”
Her eyes widened as she spat, “Did not like him? What a nonsensical thing to say. What is not to like about a responsible and respected man of fortune who would elevate you from your lowly place and ensure the comfort and well-being of all your pitiful family? If only for the sake of her many sisters and their futures, even the most obtuse of young ladies in your place would have found something to like in Darcy. I can think of many unsavoury words to describe you, but ‘obtuse’ is not one of them.”
She stifled a sigh. “Obtuse” was a good word to describe her stubborn adherence to faulty opinions about Fitzwilliam back then. Discounting any new information in opposition to her views, she had refused to veer from her mistaken beliefs about his character. “You must have noticed during my visits to Rosings that I gave Cousin Richard far more attention than I ever gave Fitzwilliam.”
“Of course I noticed the abominable mode in which you used my other nephew. If Richard had a fortune of his own, he might have been your object. As it was, he was but a pawn in your elaborate plan of seduction. I must admit it was a clever decision on your part to make Darcy jealous. It was masterful in its success; he fell right into your trap.”
“It was not like that. At the time, I believed Fitzwilliam disliked me. As for Cousin Richard, I liked him and enjoyed his company. He was all that was amiable, but I had no notion of pursuing either of your nephews for a husband. My only concern then was to have an enjoyable stay with my friend at Hunsford. I assure you; I had no intention of making anyone jealous.”
Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes. “Do not take me for a fool! I know the truth of the matter. The servants at the parsonage were all formerly in my employ. I was informed of the times you saw Darcy alone. You dare not deny that.”
Elizabeth expelled a deep breath. In consideration of his calls at the parsonage when she was alone, it may have appeared to signify an attachment between them in the eyes of the servants. “I…yes. That is true. On a couple of occasions, Fitzwilliam called when the others were away, but not by design.” At least not her design; it could not be denied that when Fitzwilliam called to make his ill-advised proposal, he had expected to find her alone.
Lady Catherine’s speech increased in vigour. “That is not all I know. My own steward spotted you and Darcy walking alone together on several occasions. Do not try my patience by telling me you came upon him by happenstance.” The older lady’s clenched hands, taut jaw, and deep red complexion exemplified her firm conviction and strength of feeling. In all likelihood, it was futile to continue to try to convince Lady Catherine she was incorrect.
Suppose I tried a different approach. She took several moments to gather her thoughts before she replied. “As I look back on my conduct while at Hunsford, I acknowledge occasions when I did not behave as I should have.” She chewed upon her lower lip. It was my abominable behaviour towards Fitzwilliam back then that I most regret, but you do not need to know that. “I shall not go into the entire tangled account of my courtship with your nephew. Instead, I shall convey my sincere regret for any disappointment suffered by you or your daughter when Fitzwilliam and I married. But I cannot be sorry for marrying him. Your nephew and I love each other, and we are happy together.”
“Your regret, even if it was genuine, would do nothing to assuage the devastation my Anne felt when she learned the man she had believed would become her husband was betrothed to another.” Lady Catherine wrung her hands in her lap, making her knuckles white. “My daughter had lived her entire life with the expectation she would marry Darcy; I had told her of it from the time she was a child. Indeed, Darcy’s mother and I spoke of it often; it was her favourite wish. As Darcy grew up, I was pleased to see the honourable and responsible gentleman he had become. I had known he would be the perfect husband for Anne—perfect, that is, until you came along and blithely ruined all of our plans. You made him forget everything he owed to his family.”
A shiver moved down her spine at the wrathful turn of Lady Catherine’s visage. How could another person feel such animosity towards her? Was Fitzwilliam’s aunt wrong in every particular or was it possible she carried some of the blame for this situation? It seemed the time spent in estrangement had done nothing to reduce any of the lady’s fury. Should she have pressed harder to urge her husband to reconcile with his aunt before now? “I can only repeat that I am sorry for any pain my marriage may have caused you or your daughter. I assure you; I never meant to hurt anyone.”
With bulging eyes, Lady Catherine said, “If you speak the truth, it is proof of how dangerous you are. How much damage would you have done if that had been your aspiration?”
“How can you be sure Fitzwilliam would have married Anne if he had never met me? If he had had any intention of marrying his cousin, why did he not make the engagement official before then?”
“If not for you, I have no doubt he would have done so. If he had been decided against the marriage, he could have said as much on one of his visits to Rosings. He never told me he would not marry her, and he could not have been in any doubt that I expected it.”
An uncomfortable sensation of weight settled over Elizabeth. Had Lady Catherine spoken the truth? If so, why had Fitzwilliam not told his aunt he would never marry his cousin? If she had been put in such a situation, she would have protested in an emphatic way; there could have been no mistaking her feelings on the matter. Had he intended to marry Anne at one time? It would explain why he had never denied his aunt’s designs for them. She swallowed several times before she found her voice. “It has been close to three years since my marriage. Pray, how is your daughter now?”
Lady Catherine glowered as her strident voice burst forth. “How do you think she is? When her intended was taken from her, Anne was at first depressed and inconsolable. Later, she was consumed by anger. She blames me for lying to her all these years. Yet how could I know you would come along and steal Darcy away?”
Elizabeth rocked back and forth in her seat. It had never occurred to her that Fitzwilliam’s timid, infirm cousin could have been suffering all this time. Had Anne been in love with him; or worse, did she love him still? Her shoulders drooped, and she lowered her sight, avoiding the older lady’s disdainful glare. “I am grieved to hear this. I wish you had brought Anne with you. I believe, given the chance, she and I could become friends.”
Lady Cather
ine sputtered, “Are you mad? Do you think Anne could have any desire to see you married to the man who was promised to her?”
Gripping the arms of her chair with sufficient force to cause her fingers to ache, she blew out a deep breath. “It is plain to see you are no less angry with me than ever. If this is indeed the case, then why did you come?”
Lady Catherine’s cold, menacing eyes pierced Elizabeth. “I had hoped upon my arrival to see that Darcy had learned to regret his marriage. I see he has not yet acknowledged his mistake; he is still blinded by your charms. You provided him with an heir, which worked well in your favour. For the moment, you retain his good opinion, but I shall show him the kind of lady he could have chosen. That is why I brought Lady Rebecca. She is similar to you in appearance but far above you in every respect. I expect, before we have been here a se’nnight, Darcy shall be convinced to rue his choice of wife.”
Her breath caught in her throat. This was madness! “Why? What could you hope to achieve? Fitzwilliam and I are married, and we have built a life together. We have a child.”
“My hope is to cause you the greatest discomfort, embarrassment, or pain in my power. Seeing your husband seduced by a woman in your own home and before your very eyes should have the effect I desire.” Her ladyship’s voice had a chilling intonation.
A silent gasp escaped Elizabeth’s lips. Despite her anxiety, her stubbornness set in again. Unwilling to let Lady Catherine see her distress, she suppressed the inclination to hug herself. “That is why you came here?”
“I want you to feel some fraction of the pain my daughter has felt for the past three years.”
That her husband’s aunt could harbour such malice towards her as to attempt to destroy their marriage was beyond the pale! A twinge of dizziness came over her. She leaned back against her chair, willing the affliction to pass.