I Met Mr Darcy Via Luton

by Fredrica Edward

  "Surely Mr Collins' income stretches to another servant. Why do you not get some more help, Charlotte?"

  "Yes, it does Lizzy, but Lady Catherine thinks one servant will suffice for the Parsonage. It would not do to cross her."

  "How officious of her! And as to the maid, if you are only allowed one servant, surely someone more experienced is necessary."

  "Lady Catherine recommended her personally," replied Charlotte. "She was a kitchen maid at Rosings before coming here."

  Elizabeth was astonished at the level of scrutiny Lady Catherine bestowed on Charlotte's affairs and could only feel sorry for her friend to be so completely under the thumb of her husband's patroness. It seemed intolerable.

  About the middle of the next day, as Elizabeth was in her room getting ready for a walk, a sudden noise below seemed to throw the whole house into confusion; and, after listening a moment, she heard somebody running upstairs in a violent hurry and calling loudly after her. She opened the door and met Mariah in the landing place, who, breathless with agitation, cried out:

  "Oh, my dear Eliza! pray make haste and come into the dining-room, for there is such a sight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make haste, and come down this moment."

  Running down the stairs, Elizabeth was greeted by a grand spectacle through the dining room window: the pigs had got into the garden.

  Mr Collins, wearing his beekeeper's hat, was chasing them round and round in circles. Every time they reached the open gate, they baulked, and headed back towards the luscious vegetables.

  "Oh dear," said Charlotte, "I think I had better help."

  Lizzy followed her friend out into the yard. With their help, Mr Collins was finally able to eject the pigs and then could only rue the loss of produce.

  Heading back to the house, both of them six inches deep in mud, Lizzy and Charlotte encountered Mariah and Sir William standing open-mouthed at the back door. Lizzy was only glad that Caroline Bingley was not there to see them. Nonetheless, it proved an amusing anecdote to write to Jane.

  Chapter 23: Dinner at Rosings

  Miss de Bourgh was laid low by her chill for a fortnight, and though this was a source of great distress to Mr Collins, Elizabeth found she could spend her time very agreeably without Lady Catherine, who sounded like quite the dragon.

  Every morning, Elizabeth set out to explore the many beautiful walks around the Parsonage and into Rosings Park. After breakfast, she helped Charlotte with her domestic duties. Mrs Bennet would have been horrified to find her daughter doing work usually performed by Longbourn's servants, but it proved a pleasant novelty to Elizabeth, and she was not about to mention it in her letters. Then, in the afternoon, the ladies sat down to talk, play the pianoforte and sew. Indeed, it did not seem too bad a life if one could forget Mr Collins; and the combination of his spiritual visits to Rosings in the morning, and Sir William's company in the afternoon, kept him agreeably occupied.

  Finally Miss de Bourgh was declared fit, and the long awaited invitation to dine was issued. Mr Collins was everything officious in the lead up to their departure, dispensing all sorts of advice on what to expect and how to conduct themselves.

  When the ladies were separating to prepare, he said to Elizabeth: "Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparel. Lady Catherine is far from requiring that elegance of dress in us which becomes herself and her daughter. I would advise you merely to put on whatever of your clothes is superior to the rest–there is no occasion for anything more. Lady Catherine will not think the worse of you for being simply dressed. She likes to have the distinction of rank preserved."

  As the weather was fine, they had a pleasant walk of about half a mile across the park. Despite Mr Collins' encouragements, Elizabeth had not walked towards the house in her morning rambles, being careful not to infringe upon Lady Catherine's privacy. She saw as she got closer to the house that the gardens became more formal. They were beautiful, but she preferred the natural beauty of the estate further from the environs of the house. For his part, Mr Collins detailed the cost and exclusivity of every ornament they encountered, ending with an enumeration of the windows in the front of the house, and of what the glazing altogether had originally cost Sir Lewis de Bourgh.

  From the entrance hall, of which Mr Collins pointed out, with a rapturous air, the fine proportions and its gracious decor, they followed the servants through an antechamber to the room where Lady Catherine, her daughter and her companion, Mrs Jenkinson, were sitting. Her ladyship, with great condescension, arose to receive them.

  Lady Catherine was a tall, large woman, with strongly marked features, which might once have been handsome. Her air was not conciliating, nor was her manner of receiving them such as to make her visitors forget their inferior rank. She was not rendered formidable by silence; but whatever she said was spoken in so authoritative a tone as marked her self-importance. Observing her countenance and deportment, Elizabeth soon found some resemblance to her nephew, Mr Darcy, though he was as silent as she was garrulous.

  Turning her attention to the daughter, Elizabeth was astonished at how thin and small she was. There was neither in figure nor face any likeness between the ladies. Miss de Bourgh's complexion was pasty; her lips, bloodless, even a little blue; she was dreadfully thin, and her arms had so little flesh on them that they resembled two sticks. She spoke very little, except in a low voice to her companion, Mrs Jenkinson.

  And this was Mr Darcy's betrothed? It seemed hardly possible. Elizabeth was hard pressed to think who had the worst of the bargain: the gentleman stuck with a wife who could claim neither beauty, health nor spirit; or the lady, forced to endure marital relations which would clearly be a trial to her. But Elizabeth had little time to dwell on her sympathies.

  "So you are one of the Bennet sisters," declared Lady Catherine. "I cannot think what you were about in not fixing your interest with your cousin, Mr Collins, when he visited last year. It seems the height of foolishness to me."

  Mr Collins looked appropriately smug.

  "With four sisters and the property entailed," she continued, "you must surely worry about how you will find your way in the world once your father passes."

  Elizabeth was unsure how to respond to this, or indeed if a response was required at all. Clearly Mr Collins was a great font of information. When the creak of a board made her glance to the side, she saw that two gentlemen had walked into the room: one was a robust man with a moustache, wearing regimentals; the other, she was astonished to see, was Mr Darcy. He was staring at her with that intent expression on his face. His aunt had not yet noticed him.

  "No wonder all five sisters are out at once!" continued Lady Catherine. "Your mother must be desperate to secure husbands for you all before you end up in the hedgerows. With only her dowry of five thousand pounds to be split among you, you have little more than your charms to recommend you."

  The man beside Mr Darcy cleared his throat.

  "Darcy!" exclaimed Lady Catherine, finally noticing them, and turning in their direction, "how good it is to see you! I had not expected to see you for another half-hour. Come, give me a kiss," she said, holding out her hand. "And you too, Richard," she added as an afterthought.

  After the gentlemen performed this obeisance, she introduced the visitors from Hertfordshire.

  "Miss Bennet and I have met before," interpolated Mr Darcy.

  Lady Catherine threw an interrogatory look at Elizabeth, arching her eyebrows and looking down her nose.

  "Ah, yes!" confirmed Elizabeth belatedly, waiting in vain for Sir William and Charlotte to be also claimed as acquaintances, "we met in Hertfordshire."

  "A friend of mine recently leased a property there," explained Mr Darcy, "and I have been helping him to get it in order."

  "You must say your hellos to Anne, Darcy," prompted Lady Catherine.

  Mr Darcy duly stepped forward and planted a perfunctory kiss on the hand of the silent Miss Anne de Bourgh.

  The other gentleman
coughed again.

  "May I present my cousin," said Mr Darcy to Elizabeth, "Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam."

  The colonel stepped forward to claim Elizabeth's hand, "Enchanted, Miss Bennet."

  As he stepped back, Elizabeth noticed Mr Darcy give his cousin a small but surreptitious kick with his boot. This was returned in kind by the colonel. Lady Catherine appeared not to notice.

  The butler announced dinner, and Lady Catherine directed Darcy to take Miss de Bourgh's arm, claiming Mr Collins as her own escort. Richard offered his arm to Elizabeth, receiving a nasty backward glance from Darcy, while Sir William brought up the rear, escorting his two daughters. Mrs Jenkinson seemed to have evaporated. Whether she ate with the servants or was indisposed, Elizabeth could not guess.

  The dining room was very grand, with a liveried footman standing behind each chair and several others positioned near the sideboard. Darcy was sat to the right of Lady Catherine with Miss de Bourgh on his right. Mr Collins sat on Lady Catherine's left, and Elizabeth was positioned to his left with Colonel Fitzwilliam on her other side. Sir William and his daughters made up the end of the table.

  Then proceeded the most awkward dinner of Elizabeth's life. Throughout the first course, Mr Collins slurped his soup loudly, which seemed not to perturb Lady Catherine but severely discomposed Elizabeth. Lady Catherine talked non-stop, and no one else got a word in edgewise. Mr Darcy and Miss de Bourgh seemed not even to try, while the colonel's sallies to Elizabeth were interrupted by Lady Catherine and met with venomous glances from Mr Darcy.

  After the covers had been removed, a card table was set up; and under Lady Catherine's direction, Darcy, Miss de Bourgh, and Mr and Mrs Collins sat down to a game of loo with Lady Catherine. Sir William Lucas was gratified to be admitted as a sixth.

  Then her Ladyship demanded entertainment.

  "Do you play and sing, Miss Bennet?"

  "A little, but not well."

  "You will never improve if you do not practice. The instrument is over there," Lady Catherine said, gesturing grandly.

  Elizabeth, feeling somewhat like a jester in court, wondered if she should crack a joke, but suppressed this thought with a smile.

  "Let me turn the pages for you, Miss Bennet," offered the colonel.

  Darcy looked up quickly, but then cast his eyes back down to the card table.

  The colonel sat down beside her on the piano stool and then, hidden behind the instrument, proceeded to surreptitiously play the left hand, leaving Elizabeth to focus on the right. He gave her a small grin before turning the page with his right hand.

  Darcy continued to glance occasionally in their direction, but at some point his venomous looks seemed to give way to wistful stares.

  Finally the card table broke up; the carriage was offered to Mrs Collins and gratefully accepted. Upon the arrival of the coach, there were many speeches of thankfulness on Mr Collins' side and as many bows from Sir William. As soon as they had driven from the door, Elizabeth was called on by her cousin to give her opinion of all that she had seen at Rosings, which, for Charlotte's sake, she made more favourable than it really was. But her commendation, though costing her some trouble, could by no means satisfy Mr Collins, and he was very soon obliged to take her ladyship's praise into his own hands.

  Chapter 24: Brandy

  After the dinner guests departed Rosings, the gentlemen retreated to the library with brandy.

  "So this is what occupied you in Hertfordshire," said the colonel, filling the bottom of two snifters. "Miss Bennet certainly is very lovely!"

  "Be quiet, you devil," returned Darcy. He could not believe he had now encountered Miss Bennet at Rosings. His attempts to run away–and he had to admit now that he had been running–were fruitless. It was if she were tied to him by a very long bit of string, which was getting shorter by the moment.

  "Now, now! there's plenty of Miss Bennet to share. We were only talking, after all. You cannot be serious about a lady in her situation. You heard what Aunt Catherine said: five daughters, the estate entailed, and no dowry to speak of."

  Darcy made no reply.

  "Pity about the dowry," the colonel continued, "else I'd marry her tomorrow. These entails are a sad business. Aunt is right: if their father died tomorrow, where would they be? She'll probably end up as somebody's mistress."

  Darcy was deep in thought. Put in this light, Mrs Bennet's grasping attitude looked merely like common sense. They had their relatives in Gracechurch Street, and there was an attorney in Luton, wasn't there? But they were both in trade and might not be able to accommodate five females. The future did indeed look grim.

  "Can we change the subject?" growled Darcy.

  "Subject, subject… Ah, yes, the latest on dit from the House of Matlock! My father is fit to be tied, the Duke of Rufford pinched his latest ladybird right out from under his nose. He had just set her up in her own establishment not three months ago. He knows how to pick them! Unfortunately he does not have pockets deep enough to keep them."

  Darcy frowned, "How is Aunt?"

  "Mother's retreated to Derbyshire, of course. She hates it when the old tabbies stop talking when she walks into a room."

  There was a silence.

  Then the colonel continued: "Mother says Georgiana is a little better. …smiles occasionally now. Wasn't very happy at Christmas when I saw her. It's a pity you could not have been there yourself."

  "Mrs Annesley thought it best for me to stay away. Did Georgiana like the sheet music I sent her?"

  "Yes, I suppose she did. She sat down to play some of the pieces, but your gift did lack the personal touch."

  "You think I should have got her something else?"

  "I think she needs a hug," replied the colonel.

  The following day, after Mr Collins set out with Sir William in the gig to show him the country, the cousins walked across Rosings Park to visit the Parsonage.

  Charlotte saw them from her husband's room, crossing the road, and immediately running into the other, told the girls what an honour they might expect, adding: "I may thank you, Lizzy, for this piece of civility. Mr Darcy would never have come so soon to wait upon me."

  Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim all right to the compliment before their approach was announced by the doorbell.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into conversation directly with the readiness and ease of a well-bred man and talked very pleasantly; but his cousin, after having addressed a slight observation on the house and garden to Mrs Collins, sat for some time without speaking to anybody. At length, however, his civility was so far awakened as to inquire of Elizabeth after the health of her family. She answered him in the usual way and after a moment's pause, added:

  "Have you heard any news of Mr Bingley from Vienna?"

  Good Lord! What had Caroline told her? Darcy shifted uncomfortably in his chair before stating, "No."

  "My eldest sister was pleased to see Miss Bingley at the theatre two weeks ago. Jane has been in town for the last three months and was hoping to see Caroline much earlier. Indeed, she decided to visit London at Caroline's behest."

  This was news to Darcy. What on earth had Caroline written to Miss Bennet?

  There was another awkward silence.

  The colonel looked round the room. "You have a piano! May I?"

  "Of course, Colonel Fitzwilliam," cried Charlotte. "I did not know you played!"

  "Ah!" said the colonel, "It is a well kept secret! Is it not Miss Bennet?"

  Lizzy smiled back, "Indeed, sir, and we would be highly gratified if you would play our goat piano!"

  Charlotte winced.

  "A goat piano, you say?" remarked the colonel.

  He sat down and plonked a few keys. "It does not say 'baa baa'!"

  "No, sir, that is sheep!" Lizzy jested. "Goats say 'maa maa'!"

  "Let me see," said the colonel, starting to play the scales. "Do-ray-me-maaaa!"

  They all burst out laughing, except Darcy, who was dreading what he knew must
come next.

  "So," said the colonel as he idly began to play Greensleeves, "Why is this a goat piano?"

  "Perhaps we should leave the tale to Mr Darcy," said Elizabeth slyly.

  "No, I pray not. You tell the tale, Miss Bennet," replied Darcy.

  "But if you tell the tale Mr Darcy, you may tell it as you wish!" she retorted.

  "I would not dare with a witness in the room," he replied.

  "But if I tell it, Mr Darcy, I might embellish it in such a way as to embarrass you," she replied.

  "I am not afraid of you, Miss Bennet."

  The colonel was now agog to hear the tale.

  "Very well…," said Elizabeth. "Once upon a time, there lived at Longbourn a very merry goat, who spent his days happily keeping the lawns in order and only occasionally eating the roses. One fine day, he was going about his business when he encountered a dog named Argos…"

  With a grin, the colonel looked at Darcy whose colour was heightened.

  Elizabeth continued:

  "Argos had never met a goat before and politely asked to play.

  Unfortunately, the goat had some experience of dogs and promptly ran away.

  Seeing a lady nearby, the goat petitioned her for help,

  but she did not understand the language of goats, and she too ran away.

  So… the lady sought refuge in the house,

  and the goat sought help from the lady,

  and the dog just wanted to play…"

  Darcy could no longer stand the excruciation. "My dog chased the goat into the house, and it jumped onto the piano!"

  "Ah!" said the colonel, enlightened. "So now it is a goat piano!"

  "Very well!" he said, adjusting himself on the seat. "Perhaps I can do it justice with some Baaaach!"

  The ladies tittered, and Darcy groaned at the colonel's bad pun.

  Richard then broke into a selection from Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier. Partway through the second piece, the sounds of Mr Collins and Sir William entering the vestibule could be heard, and the colonel improvised an ending. Standing quickly to acknowledge the applause, he grasped Elizabeth's hand and pulled her towards the piano. He retreated to lean against the mantel, from which point he orchestrated another round of applause for himself. This was the tableau that greeted Mr Collins and Sir William on their entry. Elizabeth was bemused by the colonel's antics.