“I had not imagined this,” Mary whispered anxiously into Elizabeth’s ear, “as the solution to that mystery. When I see that man, I know why Papa hid you.”
Feeling warmed by those who surrounded her, Elizabeth stood unsteadily. “I thank you, Lady Catherine, for this information. Lord Rochester, I will—”
“You will not speak to me in such a way. Come stand next to me. Let me see you closer, daughter.” He stood and walkedforward to her. That the one foot dragged a little did not change that it was a gentlemanly stride with some steadiness.
That fear came back. A flash of memory, a fear of a hand made into a fist. The memory of pain.
But so long as Darcy and Mary supported her, she would not quail or scream. “And if I do not come with you, will you beat me? No, no. No, I remember what sort of man you are—Good day.”
Lord Rochester sharply said, with no slur in the voice this time, “Sit down. I have not dismissed you.”
She barely stopped herself from running. But Darcy was with her. Mary was with her. And he could not stop her.
Chapter Seventeen
Darcy followed Elizabeth and Mrs. Collins to the door, but after giving her a brief squeeze of the hand and saying that he wished to know what plans Lord Rochester might make, he returned to the drawing room.
“My daughter...I have a daughter,” Lord Rochester exclaimed with delight as Darcy reentered the room. “Robert, I thought you were my only child.”
“My apologies! My apologies. We do respect your kindness!” Mr. Collins said to Lady Catherine, “I shall tell my wife that she must apologize for leaving without your permission. And I can scarce believe that Miss Elizabeth would do such a thing, as to go when she was ordered by a peer of the realm to stay. Mrs. Bennet said she was always a biddable creature. We have been the kind recipients of your condescension, and none of us should have acted in such a way! Miss Elizabeth has been...I will make Miss Elizabeth return, and... My Lord Rochester, is Miss Elizabeth really your daughter?”
“Who is this fellow?” Lord Rochester asked.
“My clergyman, Mr. Collins. Lady Elizabeth was raised by Mrs. Collins’s father. Do you know whathehas to do with any of this? That was the chief source of my doubt before you confirmed Lady Elizabeth’s identity—none of us have ever had any to do with a Mr. Bennet.”
“Oh, he was the fellow that Amelia had wanted to marry. Scholarly little chap. No significance. I never thought of him at all. I had forgotten his existence untilyoumentioned the name in your letter. Mr. Collins, my daughter has been staying with your wife?”
“Miss Elizabeth, that is Lady Elizabeth has been resident these past days. I am at your service, sir, to do whatever you wish. I am sure that once she understands the goodness of...how you are one of the great. And she will then, Lady Catherine, I am but your humble servant. Mrs. Collins is as well. But Miss Elizabeth is reallyLady Elizabeth?”
“He is not one of the greatest minds of the age,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said quietly to Darcy and Lord Hartley.
When Lady Catherine confirmed Elizabeth’s identity as that long disappeared and oft thought dead creature, “Lady Elizabeth”, Mr. Collins exclaimed, “I have been so blessed! To play host to the daughter of an earl. I shall need to give her great thanks for her condescension in honoring my wife and I in such a way, even though...but why did she never tell me?”
“Really not one of the greatest minds,” Colonel Fitzwilliam repeated.
“She did not know!” Lady Catherine exclaimed. “This is why your wife and I must write most of your sermons for you. Now go, keep an eye on her, and tell me tomorrow morning how she fares, and what mood she is in. Begone.”
“That will not be necessary. I will bring her home with me tonight,” Lord Rochester said to Mr. Collins. “Go bring her back. I will not have my daughter spend another night under a foreign roof.”
“She does not wish to see you at present,” Darcy said as Mr. Collins hurried out the door to fulfill the demand, “Miss Elizabeth cannot be ordered about simply, as you might if she was a child.”
“She is my daughter. She will come when I order her—what isyourinterest inLadyElizabeth. Have you been hanging about my daughter without my permission.”
“Youdid not even know that she was alive or not until this evening.”
“That changes nothing of my parental rights. I have always liked you, Mr. Darcy, and I respected your father enormously. He was not a part of the baying mob which turned against me, when I was falsely accused of Lady Rochester’s death—Oh the Lord has been kind!—I might consider you as a suitor once I have fully taken the reins of her education and made her to develop such manners as a daughter of my house must show, but at present I have no such thoughts. You have been too familiar with her.”
There was a strong conflict inside Darcy between his carefully bred politeness and a desire to sneer at the man.
The question flashed through Darcy’s mind of what he would do if they ended up fighting a duel. Would he try to kill Lord Rochester or would he delope? Would he even accept the challenge?
No.
To accept the challenge would be to acknowledge that Lord Rochester had a right to dictate Elizabeth’s life.
“Sit down, Darcy,” Lady Catherine said. “Lady Elizabeth is none of your concern. You can have no interest in her.”
This was enough to make Darcy stop glaring at Lord Rochester.
